


100 Names

by grey14



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: 2005, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Frerard, Highschool AU, M/M, Making it up As I Go Along, My Chem, Slow Burn, british girl trying to write an american highschool au, death isn't scary he's actually just a guy who owns a shitty diner, frank is short, gerard works at staples for some reason, i made this for my best friend don't judge me, i write this to avoid revising, if you don't like fries i'm so sorry, ikonic - Freeform, it's not that deep bro, lots of milkshake drinking, lots of swearing this is highschool what do you expect, my chemical romance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2019-12-07 18:28:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 108,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18238637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey14/pseuds/grey14
Summary: It’s 2005, the Grim Reaper has taken up residency in New Jersey and one high school kid’s causing him a real pain in the ass, going by the largely unpronounceable name of Frank Iero. Frank Iero has been able to tell when people are going to die for as long as he can remember. He’s also hated Gerard Way for as long as he can remember, who happens to be one of the few people whose death dates he doesn't know. The hatred is very much mutual. Well, for now, at least.





	1. In Which the Grim Reaper is a Shit Cook

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamsdisjointed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsdisjointed/gifts).



If I were to tell you that the Grim Reaper lives in New Jersey would you be surprised? Probably not, right? Well, definitely not if your name’s Frank Iero.

 

Frank had been acquainted with Death for a long time - since his mother died, actually. Six years old, Frank walked out of his mother’s funeral, determined to find Death and kick the shit out of him. He managed to find his diner, and marched in there with the full intention of doing just that, but ended up walking out with a job. Or, at least, the promise of one, when he turned thirteen. Until then he would just hang out there and eat chips until Death threw him out. Sometimes he’d even bring his friend Mikey along. Mikey was the only other person who knew the true identity of the diner’s owner, and that was simply because Frank had been stupid enough to tell his best friend when he was going to die. (Spoiler alert: Mikey’s a lucky bastard who’s planned to kick it at the ripe old age of 85.) To be fair, they had been four at the time. Intrigued by his power, Death had decided to befriend the kid. On paper it was to keep an eye on him, but truth to be told he just found him amusing. He missed humans, sometimes. Ironic, seeing as his job was taking their lives. But there was just something about them that was so naive that they were endearing, despite their continuous stupidity. Watching humanity all these thousands of years was like watching an ongoing car crash. It wasn’t pretty but he just couldn’t look away.

 

And so here Frank was, seventeen years old, eating chips at his usual table on a Sunday evening, his day off. Mikey was late, as usual.

 

“D’you want more chips, kid?”

 

Frank didn’t look up from the newspaper, simply raising a thumbs up, eliciting a “kids these days” remark from Death.

 

“Everyone’s a kid to you, old man.” He muttered, using a red marker to circle an article about a 92 year old man in Shitsville kicking it and leaving his kids a fortune they never knew he had. “Lucky bastards.”

 

“Why, because their racist dad died?” Death asked, shovelling some undercooked fries onto a plate for Frank. Hundreds of years in the business and he remained an abysmal cook. To be fair, it really was more of a side passion. A hobby, if you will, to accompany his main job of collecting souls. You know, normal boring workplace shenanigans.

 

“No, because he left them a shitload of money.” Frank replied, finding the old man’s name in his notebook and cleanly crossing it out. Practice had made his straight line drawing skills world class.

 

“Another one down?” Death asked, setting the plate down in front of him and peering over at the notebook.

 

“Mm. Old one.”

 

“Wow, 1997 huh? So you were what, 9?” Frank nodded. “How close were you? To the minute?”

 

Frank nodded before glancing over at the tally on the wall of the diner. “How many does that make?”

 

Death walked over to the wall, picking up a piece of chalk and adding a tally. “Ninety nine. Congratulations, Iero. One more and you’re free to go.”

 

Frank leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “Yeah, in fifty years.”

 

“Not this shit again.” Death rolled his eyes. “If you would only start trying again-“

 

“No, man, I told you, I’m not doing it anymore.” Frank replied, not looking up so Death didn’t see the temptation in his eyes. Of course he could easily agree to start predicting dates again, all he’d have to do would be to bump into a few people… But he’d sworn not to do it again. He just couldn’t. “You were the one who told me I need to start living more."

 

Death shrugged. “Suit yourself, kid. Just-“

 

Frank looked up when the sound of the door cut Death’s oncoming lecture off in a brilliant stroke of timing.

 

“Mikey Way, I’ve never been so happy to see you.” Frank jumped up, grabbing his friend’s arm and dragging him over to the table.

 

“Woah, what’s with the warm welcome?” Mikey stared disbelievingly at his best friend. “Don’t tell me this asshole’s trying to get you to start again.”

 

“Sit down and eat your goddamn fries.” Death muttered, skulking off to serve another customer, huffing.

 

Frank looked over at Mikey and grinned. “For that excellently timed entrance I shall let go of the fact that you are…” he paused and checked his watch. “ _Fifteen minutes late._ ”

 

“It doesn’t seem like you’re letting it go.” Mikey pointed out, mildly.

 

“Oh shut up.”

 

“Gimme a break, Gee was being a pain in the ass.”

 

“Nothing new there then.” Frank muttered. That guy had been a pain in the ass since Frank had first laid eyes on him.

 

“He’s going on a date and he couldn’t decide what to wear and for some reason it meant I had to spend a decade helping him decide.”

 

“What, was he agonising whether to wear a black leather jacket or another black leather jacket?”

 

“Denim, actually.” Mikey said, cracking a small smile. “Anyway, enough about my charming brother.”

 

Frank snorted at the word “charming”. That guy was the antithesis of charming, as far as he was concerned. He’d rather go for “indescribably punchable”. “Oh good, I was starting to feel ill.”

 

Mikey rolled his eyes.  _There’s that classic Way gesture; the look of complete exasperation._ Frank had come to the conclusion from knowing the Way brothers for a number of years that the two of them thought everyone and everything was beneath them - but especially Mikey’s asshole older brother. “Why was the old man trying to get you to start predicting again then?” He took a handful of fries and began eating them one by one; a technique Frank could not understand. As far as he was concerned, the primary purpose of hands was to shove fries in your mouth in as greater quantity as was humanly possible.

 

“Cos he’s a dick. Also I’m on 99.” He mumbled around a mouthful of chips.

 

“No way.” Mikey said, looking about as shocked as his largely unchangeable facial expressions would allow him.

 

“Yes way, Mikey Way.” Frank said, grinning when his friend scowled at him.

 

“So you’re nearly free then? Also, unoriginal.”

 

“Uhm, if fifty years isn’t a long time to you, then yeah.” Mikey raised an eyebrow, which was his way of asking you to elaborate. “Well the next one I have predicted is due in fifty years time.”

 

Mikey sat back in his chair, shaking his head. “Now I get it.”

 

Franked groaned, recognising that look. “Not you too.”

 

“He has a point, that’s all I’m saying.”

 

“Whatever.” That was Frank’s way of asking you to change the subject.

 

“Wanna come play video games at mine?” Mikey finally asked and Frank nodded as quickly as was humanly possible. “You can make fun of how terribly Gee’s date inevitably went with me, when he gets back.”

 

Frank grinned, “I’m down.” There was nothing he’d enjoy more.

  


When Gerard finally staggered into his room, totally drained and very ready to collapse into a 24 hour long coma, and found his bed occupied by Mikey and his insufferable friend, Frank, playing video games, he was less than pleased. In fact, he was really quite pissed off, and he expressed this with the great eloquence and grace the situation required.

 

“Fuck off Frank.”

 

Frank looked up at him, feigning innocence. “Why, did your date not go so well?” He smiled and Gerard really wanted to punch him. But first he glared over at Mikey who shrugged, seemingly unapologetic for telling Frank about his date/ordeal. No, to answer his question, it hadn’t gone well. It had gone about as shittily as a date possibly could, and he definitely did not want to talk about it with Frank Iero.

 

“I want to sleep off this headache, not get another one.” He groaned, shrugging off his jacket and throwing his keys on top of the dresser.

 

“They’re gonna fall off there.” Frank noted, and he was infuriatingly right. They were perilously close to the edge.

 

“Didn’t ask.” He muttered, sitting down on his bed and putting his head in his hands. He’d had a headache  _all day_  and Frank Iero’s presence always amplified any pain.

 

“You’re gonna step on ‘em.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Gee.” Mikey said, somehow managing to be stern whilst navigating Delfino Square in a stroller. Mikey Way’s Mario Kart character of choice was always Baby Mario and that baffled Gerard, but he was really in no place to judge, seeing as he always played Peach. Frank liked Yoshi and Gerard  _hated_ that he knew that  _why did he know that?_

 

“Oh whatever.” Gerard muttered, getting up and shoving his keys in his drawer before falling face first onto the bed and groaning into his pillow. “Now will you please fuck off out of my room?”

 

“Fine, just let us finish this race.”

 

Gerard hated how easily Mikey could get his way with him. What could he say, he loved his brother too much. And so he just lay there whilst Frank and Mikey played until Mikey inevitably won; Frank inevitably faced a crushing defeat by literally every NPC and he finally got up to leave.

 

“See you, Gerard! Better luck next time, eh?” He called, laughing.

 

“Fuck  _off._ ”

 

And he did, eventually. Gerard lay there, face down and still fully clothed until he heard Mikey come back in to turn off the tv.

 

“Please tell me he’s gone” Gerard mumbled into the cushion.

 

“Yep.” Mikey said, and Gerard could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “So, I’m assuming it went terribly.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Wanna talk about it?”

 

“Nope nope nope nope.”

 

“Wow, that’s a first.” Mikey said, laughing, but not unkindly. “It’s alright, Gee, plenty more people out there.”

 

“None who’ll like me.” Gerard said, melodramatically. “Nobody’s ever gonna like me.”

 

“Oh shut up, you’ll find someone soon. Nobody you’ve met so far deserves you, that’s all.”

 

Gerard looked up and managed to smile a little at his brother. “Thanks Mikes.”

 

“That’s alright. Now maybe try and sleep? You have school tomorrow, remember?”

 

Gerard groaned again, burying himself in the duvet. “Fuckkkkkk.”

 

Mikey laughed, patting Gerard’s shoulder and leaving him to fall asleep almost instantly, though not before going over every single remark Frank had made earlier to piss him off, and thinking up ways to get back at him.

  
  
  
  


_Goddamnit, there’s nothing_. Frank was sat on a bench on the school grounds, going over the remaining names in his notebook for what felt like the hundredth time since last night. There were pages of names and dates, barely any of them crossed out, dating back as far as 1996, when he’d first started recording them. It was quite amusing to watch his handwriting develop over time - that is, if you ignored the fact that it’s a book of dead people.

 

Of course, he didn’t usually carry it around with him - least of all bring it to school - in case he lost it or someone started questioning why he had crossed out the names of a bunch of dead people. He’d seem like an assassin or something. (An assassin who mostly killed old people, apparently.) However, today he couldn’t seem to let go of it. The idea that there may be someone he had missed just wouldn’t leave his head - not because it was feasible, because it very much wasn’t, but simply out of pure, stupid hope. The kind that Death mocked humans for being so susceptible to.

 

He was in the middle of reminiscing about someone whose name he’d just seen when suddenly the book was stolen from his hands. Immediately he looked up, reaching out to snatch it back and scowling when he saw who it was.

 

“What’re you reading, Frankie?” Gerard was stood in front of him, staring at the initials on the cover and frowning - likely because they weren’t Frank’s own.  _Great, now he probably thinks I stole the damn thing_. He was annoyed at himself for not noticing the guy approach actually, it wasn’t like he was hard to spot. Long, black messy hair, smudgy eyeliner. He’d also made a mess of doing his tie - Frank guessed Mikey hadn’t been around to help for once.

 

“Give it back, asshole.” He held out his hand, attempting to glare him into submission.

 

Gerard, luckily, didn’t appear particularly interested in the contents and shrugged, inspecting the cover before giving it back. “Alright, relax. Was just lookin’.”

 

“Well don’t.” Frank snatched it out of his hands, shoving it back in his bag. “What are you doing here anyway?”

 

Gerard shrugged again, dropping his bag on the bench and sitting down. Well, half sitting half collapsing, really. “What you’re doing, hiding from everyone before class.”

 

“Must you do it  _here_ ?” Frank groaned, watching Gerard slide further and further off the bench as though he were trying to waste away. He could relate to that. “Don’t you know  _anyone_ else? Like, maybe actually in your grade?”

 

“Uhm, you know I don’t. And if I go somewhere else I’ll probably just get the shit kicked out of me so I’m gonna stay here.”

 

“So now you’re using me for protection now, huh?”

 

“Mm.”  _That’s a joke,_  Frank thought to himself.  _I probably get beat up just as much as he does_.

 

“You do know I’m this close to kicking your ass myself, right?”

 

“You won’t.”

 

“Try me.”

 

“Mikey would be pissed at you.”

 

Frank didn’t reply, mostly because he was right. “Whatever.” He muttered, pulling out his iPod and plugging in his headphones. “Just shut up.”

 

“Asshole.” He heard Gerard mutter, before he turned up his music and drowned anything else he had to say out completely.

 

It wasn’t an unheard of occurence, he supposed, watching the guy out of the corner of his eye. Gerard had made his bag into a pillow and was now attempting to sleep on it - only succeeding in smudging his eyeliner even more. They hated each other, sure, but they both often got to school early, and so they’d often end up like this. Sitting with each other to look slightly less alone but scowling whenever they caught each other’s eye.

 

When ten minutes had passed and it was finally time for class, Frank looked over to see Gerard fast asleep. He was so,  _so_  tempted to just leave him like that but he had a picture of Mikey’s disappointed face in his mind as he turned to go, remembering the promise he’d made him, so he stopped. “You win, Mikey Way, as usual.” He muttered, digging in his bag until he found his water bottle, walking up to Gerard and pouring some on his face before running off, laughing when he heard Gerard swearing after him.

 

 _I promised to take care of him_ , he grinned to himself,  _but I never said I’d be nice about it._

  


Mikey showed up halfway through second period, panting an apology to the teacher - who brushed it off because it was Mikey Way and this was a regular occurrence - and slid into the empty seat next to Frank. They were watching a documentary about the French Revolution, because apparently their teacher couldn’t be bothered to do her job that day. A quick glance around the class and Frank honestly didn’t blame her. If he had a class full of assholes like this one he’d probably just put a film on, too.

 

“What’d I miss?” Mikey whispered, his voice laboured - likely from running.

 

“Literally nothing.” Frank replied, not bothering to lower his voice much. Everyone was talking over it anyway.

 

“Figures.”

 

“Hey Mikes, I know it’s your thing and all but could you just be on time for once,  _please_?”

 

Mikey gave him a knowing look. “Why, did Gerard piss you off or somethin’?”

 

“ _Yes_.” Frank whined.

 

“Aw come on, Frank, you know he has no friends other than Ray, and he isn’t in on Mondays.”

 

“Yeah, you can see why.”

 

Mikey sighed. “I woke up late, then I had to feed the cats and then-”

 

“And then you forgot your phone/wallet/bag, I know the drill. It’s like you have a schedule or something - Monday forget keys, Tuesday forget cellphone, Wednesday forget brain-”

 

“Oh shut up.” Mikey said, opening his book and writing the date - rather unnecessarily, seeing as it didn’t look like any work was about to start happening anytime soon. He looked like he was about to say something else when he was interrupted by a knocking on the door. The entire class looked at the door expectantly. In 2nd period history on a Monday morning literally any distraction is a welcome one, and Frank was no different. Except, however, when it’s in the form of the black-haired asshole who had just walked in.

 

 _I can’t escape the bastard!_  He thought to himself, wanting to disappear into the ground - especially when Gerard opened his mouth and spoke the words, “Is Frank Iero in here?”

 

Everyone turned to look at him.

 

The teacher nodded, boredly, waving in his general direction before going back to marking books with similar unenthusiasm.

 

Gerard walked up to him, followed by thirty pairs of eyes, and dropped his notebook on the table in front of him. “You dropped this, idiot.” He mumbled, grudgingly, giving his brother a quick pat on the shoulder before turning to leave.

 

“That your girlfriend, Iero?” Some kid called out, rousing obnoxious laughter.

 

Frank, being fully equipped to ignore comments like that and more focused on beating himself up for being stupid enough to leave his notebook lying around, was aghast to watch Gerard turn around and wink before slipping out of the classroom.  _He just loves to make my life Hell, doesn’t he?_

 

The girlfriend comments didn’t let up until the bell mercifully rang at the end of second period.

 

Fuming at the injustice of it all, Frank pulled out his phone and texted Gerard - whose number he’d forced out of Mikey by repeatedly punching him in the arm until he gave in.

 

Frank: i hate u so much

couldnt u have waited till after class??

 

Fuckwit: that’s for pouring water on me u dick

 

Frank: i shouldve choked you with it

 

Mikey grabbed the phone out of his hands, but not before he’d sent it. “That’s enough, don’t you think?”

 

Gerard then sent Frank a photo of his middle finger and Mikey had to hold him back from storming around the school to find him and punch him.

 

“Are you gonna delete his number now?” Mikey asked hopefully, as they queued up in the cafeteria.

 

“Not a chance.” Frank replied, beginning to grin. Suddenly things were looking up just a little.


	2. In which Frank doesn’t like Spiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m an idiot

Death was confused. And when Death was confused, Frank Iero was usually involved.

Death had spent hundreds of thousands of years observing the human species, but had found no member of it to be as entirely baffling as this individual could be. He acted out impulsively and could be sometimes irrationally hot tempered, but then spent hours afterward pouring over every detail of the interaction and agonising about it. Perhaps he wasn’t so different to other humans, but Death had never known another human as well as he had known Frank Iero. He wondered if he ever would, after the kid was gone.

“Why do you hate this guy so much again?” He asked, scratching his head. For as long as he’d known the kid he hadn’t gotten along with Mikey’s elusive older brother - Death had only come across him briefly once or twice, for he got the impression he rarely left his room except to go to school and work - but it had definitely gotten worse within the last couple of years. It seemed all Frank ever did was complain when his name was brought up.

“Because.” Frank answered, though it could hardly be considered an answer, really. When Death voiced this he sighed and added, “He’s an asshole.”

“So are you.” Death pointed out, diplomatically.

“Yeah, on the surface level.” Frank explained, wiping down a nearby table with a little too much vigour. “But I’m nice really.”

“And he isn’t?”

He hesitated, and Death knew what that meant: he was about to lie. “No.” He raised an eyebrow and Frank sighed. “He doesn’t eat babies or anything, we just don’t mix well. It got worse a year or two ago.” Death gestured at him to continue, intrigued to finally learn the reason for their feud. “I was at Mikey’s, right, and we were a bit drunk.” Death’s right eyebrow joined his left one. “Okay, more than a bit. And I may have accidentally kinda ruined a comic he was working on.” He winced as he said it.

“So it’s your fault?” Death was even more confused now.

“No!” Frank objected immediately, incredibly offended by the proposition of his guilt. “I said sorry and all but he was such a dickhead about it, so I pointed that out and he called me a stupid prick and we’ve kinda never gotten past that.”

Death was convinced that wasn’t all, but he decided to let it slide. “D’you know when he’s gonna die?” He asked, curiously.

Frank shook his head. “Like I’ve ever touched that prick. I’m never going to. I don’t wanna know.”

“Fair enough. He could be your hundredth, though, you never know.”

Now even Frank looked grim at the prospect of that. “Unlikely.”

“I suppose. Now why don’t you just go home, already? You’ve been wiping that same table for at least twenty minutes, it’s not getting any cleaner now.”

Frank looked down at the table, seemingly surprised. “Hadn’t noticed.” He muttered, dropping the cloth and heading toward the coat hanger. “Alright, I guess I better head out. Dad’ll be wondering where I am.”

“Say hello from me.”

“Will do.” Frank nodded, grabbing his coat off of the hook and heading out the door, calling goodbye over his shoulder.

Death shook his head, letting out a weary sigh. “Humans…”

 

Two days after the notebook incident, Frank still seemed to be carrying it around everywhere, Gerard noticed. He’d even overheard those kids who’d been making fun of him in class talking about stealing it, though he didn’t say anything about it to Frank. Mikey would be giving him a disapproving glare right now, but he didn't particularly care. Even the prospect of Mikey’s disappointment wasn’t enough to convince him to help Frank.

 _What’s so special about that goddamn book?_ He wondered to himself, staring absently ahead at his wall, the comic book slowly slipping out of his grip.

“Gerard!” He was suddenly jerked from his thoughts from his mother’s voice from upstairs.

“Yeah?” He called back. The Ways were rather prone to communicating exclusively through yelling at one another.

“I’m just going out, can you look after your brother?”

Gerard laughed, calling back that he would. Mikey was seventeen and yet his mother was still asking Gerard to take care of him. It’s not that he wouldn’t, but honestly Mikey was more capable of taking care of himself than Gerard was. In fact, it was really Gerard who needed to be taken care of by Mikey.

A few minutes later he heard Mikey on the stairs, waving at him as he came in. “Mom told me to look after you again.”

Mikey smiled a little. “How reassuring. What’re you reading?”

Gerard passed his comic to Mikey, not mentioning that instead of reading it he’d been thinking about Frank. He’d never admit that, even if it had been about how much he hated his guts.

Whilst Mikey flicked through the comic, a question built up in his mind that he became so desperate to ask that despite his best efforts to keep from bringing Frank up, in the end he couldn’t help it. “Hey Mikes?”

“Mm?”

“Do you know what’s in that notebook Frank carries?”

Mikey didn’t even bother looking up to reply, absently, “Nope.”

“Oh.” Gerard was disappointed, though he wasn’t sure why. Why did he even care anyway? “It’s not a diary or anything?”

“Could be.” Mikey said, clearly not paying attention, so Gerard gave up, reluctantly. Part of him wished he’d looked in the notebook when he’d taken it from Frank, but the decent part of him told him that even if it was Frank Iero, it still wasn’t cool.

“Hey Mikes?”

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“No, no, I was just gonna ask if you wanted to play Mario.”

“Oh, then yeah.” He grinned. “It’s like you enjoy losing.”

“Pfft, when do I ever do that?”

“Uhm, like every time.”

“Prove it.”

Mikey rolled his eyes, setting up the game on the tv. “Why do you care anyway?”

“I don’t, it’s just a game.”

“No, no.” He said, ever so slightly exasperated. “Frank’s notebook.”

 

“Oh, I dunno.” He muttered, and it was genuinely the truth. He really wasn’t sure.

“Don’t look at Frankie’s stuff.” Mikey said sternly, handing him a remote.

“I wasn’t going to!” He said, defensively. “I’m not an asshole.”

“I know.” Mikey said. “That’s why you won’t mind me kicking your ass in a minute.”

And he didn’t.

 

Frank’s high school wasn’t exactly the nicest in town. Probably because it wasn’t in the nicest part of town. In a not very nice town. Altogether, things weren’t especially nice. Honestly, that’s how he liked it. Frank liked that about New Jersey; its grimy walls, drug-dealing neighbours and crack houses. It all just seemed so bleak it was almost beautiful. _Almost_ being the key word there. It wasn’t exactly the perfect place for a kid to grow up, but then, where was? People made it out that if you grew up too sheltered you’d become a selfish prick and if you grew up too rough you’d become a drug-taking loser. But Frank knew people who’d grown up with everything and thrown it all away, and people who’d grown up with nothing but made something of themselves. In the end, Frank believed people made their own choices, and that was what he intended to do.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t had a nice life - sure he had. Yes, his mother has died far too early, and yes, they didn’t have a whole lot of money. But he had good memories of her at least, which was more than some people whose mothers were alive, and his father made enough for them to get by just fine. He had a supportive family and a good best friend. He didn’t really have any other friends, but that was fine with him. Mikey was the only person he’d ever really connected with. It wasn’t that he hated everyone else - though there were a fair amount of people that applied to - he was just mostly indifferent.

When it came, however, to the guys who liked to shove him in lockers and storerooms, he would happily convince Death to send them to Hell and not feel an inch of remorse. (Sadly Death didn’t work that way, or Hell would be pretty damn full if Frank could send everyone who pissed him off there.) It happened from time to time, when he let his guard down. That rarely happened now that he was older and more aware, but some days he forgot himself - especially when he was lost in thought about something.

Today was one of those days.

Usually he’d just be walking down the corridor and someone would shove him in a storeroom and run off laughing, but this time was different for two reasons: A) they locked it and B) he wasn’t alone.

To be fair, he kind of had it coming. He had completely lost concentration that morning and slammed into some asshole kid from his history class by accident. He hadn’t been about to apologise so he’d just walked off. A couple of hours later he was walking to maths, completely lost in thought thinking about some tv show that was on that night when he was roughly shoved into a nearby storeroom used for keeping new textbooks. Usually he’d just brush himself off and get out, but before he could do that he heard a click and froze.

“Fuck.” He swore out loud, grabbing the handle and swearing again when it didn’t budge. “Fuck fuck fuck.” _The bastard’s locked me in!_ He banged his fist on the door, hoping someone nearby would hear, but nothing. He had been a bit late, it wasn’t likely anyone was going to be around for another hour or so. “ _Fuck_.” He didn’t have his cellphone on him - he’d lent it to his dad that morning. He was the only one in the family with a cellphone and his dad had gone on a trip a couple of hours away and needed it. He’d figured he’d just use a pay phone if he needed one, but it wasn’t like there was a pay phone in the storeroom; if there was then he’d call Mikey…

Groaning, he slid slowly down the wall until he was sat facing the door. It was dark and cramped and really dusty and- _fuck_. Frank had a sudden thought and his skin began to crawl. One word he tried to force out of his mind but it wouldn’t leave.

 _Spiders_.

“I’m sure there aren’t any…” He muttered, trying to convince himself. “Relax, Frank… if you don’t look then they’re not there.” That’s what his father had told him once when he’d been a kid and couldn’t sleep worrying about a spider he’d seen in his room earlier. He still repeated it to himself to this day.

He sat there for about another ten minutes, struggling to control his ragged breathing, when suddenly there was a click and the room was filled with light for a few moments. Frank’s first thought was that he was being rescued, and so when something was thrown against him and the door was slammed and locked again, he was too stunned to react until it was too late.

There was darkness again, and whatever-whoever had just joined him scrambled away from Frank, hunching against the door opposite him. For a moment Frank’s eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness again, but after awhile they managed to make out who it was, and he groaned louder. Things had just gotten a hundred times worse.

“Gerard?” He tried, slowly, holding out on the small hope he was mistaken. It was false hope, of course. As if it would be anyone else. The world was that cruel, he fully believed that. And besides, now those assholes knew something else about him of course they were going to use that against him, even if it was a person.

“ _Frank_?” He seemed just as surprised.

“For _fuck’s_ sake.” Frank couldn’t believe his shitty luck. First he was shoved in a storeroom which was probably infested with spiders, and now this. Things couldn’t get any worse if the world fucking tried.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Gerard asked, incredulously.

“Taking a vacation, what does it fucking look like?” He spat, running his hands down his face and groaning. “I’m gonna kill those pricks.”

Gerard laughed, not seeming entirely bothered by the whole thing now he understood what was going on. “Do those guys do this a lot?”

Frank scowled and didn’t answer, though he knew his silence was an answer in itself.

Gerard was properly laughing now and Frank really wanted to punch him. “Once a week? Twice?”

“Oh shut up.” Frank grumbled. “Like you never get picked on.”

Frank could make out Gerard’s hunched frame shrugging in the darkness. “They hate you if you’re remotely different. It’s like they all want to be clones of one another.”

“So you go out of your way to wear eyeliner to get beaten up?” Frank deadpanned.

“I don’t see you trying to fit in all that hard, Mr I Wear Fingerless Gloves In Summer. Nice black nail polish, by the way.”

He had him there. “Whatever.” He hated that he couldn’t combat that, because it was true. Though the fingerless gloves were more protection against direct contact - and he couldn’t wear proper gloves because then he would seem less edgy and more completely odd - he did like them as a fashion choice too, admittedly. “Why are you so cool with this?”

“I’m just thrilled to be spending more time with my favourite person.” Gerard replied, sweetly, and Frank kicked him. His foot didn’t have to move far considering their knees were brushing and he couldn’t help it at all. There was literally no other room, even for Frank, who was known to be able to fit into any small space. “Got nothing better to do.” Gerard said, breezily.

“Uhm, don’t you have a class or something?”

“Nah, free study but that’s boring.”

“And this _isn’t_?”

“Well-“

“Wait!” It hit Frank then, minutes after Gerard had arrived. _I’m an idiot!_

“ _What_?”

“You have a cellphone, right?”

“Don’t you?”

“Sometimes. Doesn’t matter, you have one, yeah?”

“Yes…” Gerard said slowly, as though he had no clue what Frank was getting at.

“Call Mikey and get us out!”

“Can’t.”

“What? Why?”

“He’s in a French exam right now.”

“Fuck.” He was right. Frank didn’t take French because he was shit at languages, and to be fair, so was Mikey, but he’d chosen it anyway. That meant it would be at least an hour before he’d be able to come and get them out. “Fuck!” He shouted, kicking a box to his left.

“Keep that up and someone might hear and come help.” Gerard remarked, seeming amused. That pissed Frank off even more - the fact that he was completely unbothered by the situation. It wasn’t that Frank desperately wanted to be in maths, but he didn’t want his father to hear that he’d been “skipping” class again. He’d been doing well at going to classes these days, he didn’t want him to think he was bunking again, but he also didn’t want him to know that assholes were locking him in storerooms. It’d just cause him unnecessary worry that he didn’t need right now. Frank could handle himself, he didn’t want his father to think he couldn’t. _Good job you’re doing of handling yourself right now, kid._ He could hear Death’s voice in his head, taunting him, and he was about to kick the box again when a tingling sensation on the back of his neck made him freeze.

“Shit.” He whispered, his hands beginning to tremble.

“Louder! Nobody’s gonna hear that!” Gerard was mocking him again but he couldn’t reply. He couldn’t even move. Gerard seemed to notice this lack of response and reached out, waving his hand in front of Frank’s face. “You in there?”

Frank tried to ignore him, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. If Gerard found out he was scared of spiders he’d never hear the end of it… But that crawling sensation was still there and he just needed to get rid of it right now.

“What’s wrong?” The question wasn’t exactly sympathetic.

“Nothing.” He replied through gritted teeth.

“You sure?” Gerard leaned forward curiously, way too close for Frank to think straight now that his two enemies were in his personal space.

“Yes! Fuck off!” He shouted, pushing him against the door.

“Fine! Jesus…” Now Gerard was pissed off. Frank heard him lean against the door, practically able to sense him sulking.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Frank took a deep breath, hating himself for what he was about to do but unable to hold back any longer. “Can you just… Can you just look at my neck?” He was about to say “please” but he stopped himself before he stooped that low.

“Huh? What for?”

“Just… Just do it.” Frank hissed, wrapping his arms tightly round himself and stalling himself for the word he was about to say. “ _Please_.”

Gerard whistled and Frank hated him more with every passing second. “This place must have a curse on it to make you say that word, holy shit.”

“You fucking-“

“Relax, I’m doing it!” Gerard interrupted him, laughing. Frank knew he was just happy to be in some position of power right now. _Wait till I kick your ass as soon as you get this thing off me…_ He had to admit, though, he’d been worried for a moment that Gerard wouldn’t do it. He was actually a little surprised he’d so readily agreed. “Turn around then!”

Frank struggled to turn in the cramped room, having to use Gerard’s knees to steady himself and hating every second, still feeling that dreadful sensation on his neck. Imagining those legs and all those eyes- He really, really hated spiders.

When he was finally sat with his knees against the wall, back to Gerard, he felt his hair being pushed up, probably so Gerard could look. How he’d be able to see anything in this lighting was beyond Frank, even if his eyes were getting more used to it. Then suddenly the sensation was gone and he let out a heavy sigh of relief and slumped against the wall.

“Got him.” Gerard announced, proudly.

Frank couldn’t bring himself to say thanks, and so instead just kept his head resting against the wall, finally beginning to calm down a little.

“Wow, you were scared of this little guy? He’s such a sweet little fella, look!” A hand appeared at Frank’s side and he immediately slapped it away. Gerard laughed, withdrawing his hand. Frank heard him whispering goodbye before he let it go, assumedly. Frank could only pray it didn’t decide to come back to him.

“I didn’t know you were scared of spiders.”

There it was. Frank groaned. “ _Please shut up_.”

“Wow, there it is again! You’re being awfully liberal with the p word today, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What would you prefer, _fuckwit_?”

“Asshole.” Frank muttered, curling himself into a ball. It was so uncomfortable, cramped against all these boxes.

“How did they lock the door in the first place?” Gerard asked, half to himself. “The doors in this school lock from the inside, don’t they?”

“I dunno.” Frank muttered, not especially caring how they’d done it. Did it matter? They wouldn’t be any less trapped if they worked out how they’d gotten trapped in the first place. It’d probably just make him angrier than he already was and Mikey would probably have to stop him from lodging a plastic fork in the bastard’s eye when he saw him at lunch. “Probably used a master key or something. Who cares?”

“And how would they get one of those? Must’ve snuck into reception…”

“Didn’t you hear me, Sherlock? Who cares?”

“Just passing time…” He replied, a little quieter. He sounded so dejected, Frank forgot himself for a moment and felt a little guilty before he remembered who it was.

“Just draw or some shit.” He suggested, fiddling with one of the boxes he’d broken earlier when he’d kicked it. Truth was that he was feeling restless himself. He’d always found it hard to keep still and being confined to a cramped space was like trapping a fly in a tiny box. He’d probably just keep hitting the walls until he eventually passed out.

“Got nothin’ to draw on.” Gerard pointed out, though Frank could hear him uncapping and capping a pen.

“Well that’s too bad.” He started peeling off bits of wall.

There was silence for a couple of moments before he heard Gerard move against the door suddenly. “Gimme your arm!”

“Uhm, hell no.”

“Aw, please?” He sounded like a kid begging for candy and Frank had a sinking feeling he wasn’t going to give up until he got what he wanted, much like said kid.

“No, you are absolutely not drawing on me, no fucking way. Not happening.”

Five minutes of insufferable whining later, Frank was now sat facing the door again, grumbling incessantly whilst Gerard drew a skeleton on his hand, by reluctant request. Frank had made sure that Gerard was only holding onto his arm, which was covered by his sleeve, and he had absolutely forbidden him from touching his hand. Gerard knew about the no-touching policy, having known him for over a decade, so he naturally followed this unquestioningly. Frank thought that perhaps if it was less normal to him the asshole would probably break the rule within a second.

“You should get a tattoo.” Gerard remarked absently, whilst drawing.

“I’m seventeen.” Frank reminded him.

“This is Jersey.” Gerard reminded him.

“Yeah, and my father would kill me, and then my grandfather would lecture my ashes, and then my mum would yell at me in heaven.”

Gerard made a sound like he was stifling laughter and Frank ignored the good feeling he got whenever he made anyone laugh. It wasn’t allowed when it was Gerard. “Like you’re going there.”

“Shut up.”

“Whatever, you should get one on your eighteenth.”

“Why?” Frank asked, for the hell of it, because they still had half an hour until Mikey would be able to rescue them. He had always planned to get tattoos anyway, it was hardly a new idea.

“Suits you.” Gerard replied, and for a moment Frank thought he may be receiving a genuine compliment, before he followed it up with, “All assholes suit tattoos.”

Frank swiftly kicked him and smirked when Gerard let out a little yelp. “Why don’t you get one, then?”

“I don’t like needles.” Gerard replied, seeming to regret his admission a moment later.

“Wow, seriously?”

“Uhm, says you! You just begged me to free you from the attack of a spider the size of my fingernail!”

“Shut up! At least I can get an injection at school without passing out.”

“Yeah, well at least I can watch a nature documentary without hiding behind a cushion.”

“Fuck off.” Frank scowled, knowing when he was beaten. Sure, it was a pathetic phobia, but hell, it was a phobia, if it made sense then he wouldn’t be afraid of it for God’s sake.

Gerard finished the drawing without saying anything else, though humming cheerfully to himself. He had a nice singing voice, Frank couldn’t help but admit. It was objectively true, refusing to acknowledge it would just be petty. Didn’t mean he didn’t hate the guy any less.

“Done.” He finally said, a few minutes later, releasing Frank’s arm. Frank let out a little sigh of relief. Whenever his bare skin was too close to anyone else he started to feel tense. Blinking in the darkness, he managed to make out most of the skeleton’s features, unable to help himself from admiring it a little. _Why is he so fucking talented? Why can’t he be a dumb fuck like me?_ “Do you like it?”

“Sure.” He mumbled, wrapping his arm back around his knees.

“Nice.” He heard Gerard say, quietly, and couldn’t help but wonder how he would’ve felt if Frank hadn’t have liked it. Would he have cared? Probably not, right?

They didn’t say anything for the rest of the time they were in there, both breathing a heavy sigh of relief when Mikey finally came to their rescue, laughing until he couldn’t breathe as he saw his brother and friend huddled together in a tiny closet.

“Oh shut up.” Gerard laughed, good-naturedly, whilst Frank just scowled.

Mikey grinned, turning to ask if Frank was okay when his smile widened a little. “Nice couple of tattoos you got there, Frankie.”

Frank blinked at him in confusion. Couple? He looked down at his arm again and immediately swore. Staring back at him was an infuriatingly well drawn spider.

“You fucking asshole!” He yelled, punching Gerard in the arm and only finding a little solace when he yelped in pain.

_You just wait until our next vaccinations._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh this is not a new chapter I’m a fucking idiot and deleted chapter two whoops sorry literally haven’t changed it one bit just a repost


	3. In Which the Grim Reaper Visits Staples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank really doesn’t like basketball and Gerard is very confused.

A couple of days after the storeroom debacle - wherein upon rescue, Frank had swiftly located the guy responsible and started a fight that had ended up in both parties receiving minor injuries and unsurprisingly only Frank receiving a major warning from the head teacher - it was finally Friday, and Gerard was spending a beautiful sunny day as all should; working in Staples and getting harassed by old people who couldn’t work the new machines. Now it would be a very large stretch to say that Gerard enjoyed his job. It would even be a stretch to say that he was indifferent. He had the same relationship to his job as he did to Frank, really. He hated it, but only tolerated it because his brother told him to. Mikey really did have too much power over him, but perhaps that was a good thing. He’d always been the more sensible one, honestly.

The only good thing about his job was that Ray was there, but it wasn’t like they could just hang out the whole time. They weren’t getting paid to throw paper clips at each other, sadly (though they still did this frequently, whenever the store was slow). Gerard checked his watch for the fourth time in the last minute, and surprise surprise it was still twenty minutes until his lunch break.

Sometimes when nobody was around to serve in the store (because Gerard usually worked in the aisles unless they needed him on the till or to shift stock, which he was awful at, seeing as he had negligible upper body strength) and Ray was busy with orders, Gerard would call Mikey to come entertain him. But that was impossible because he had school that day. Sometimes being a couple of years older sucked - though not when arguing over who got to be player one.

So there he was, milling around, idly picking up and putting down packets of staples (a pun which had stopped making him smirk perhaps twenty minutes into working there, but people still shamelessly and frequently made as though they really thought they were the first) when he felt a rather heavy presence lingering behind him and turned, quickly. “Can I help you?” He asked, his voice wavering a little when he came to face the owner of said heavy presence, not because he was scary or anything, but just because he seemed oddly familiar. Gerard felt like he’d seen him somewhere before but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He wanted to ask but that was hardly professional. (Not that Gerard was all that professional anyway.)

“Yes please.” The guy smiled, pleasantly, and Gerard felt his skin crawl. He couldn’t describe it, there was just something _off_. “My eyesight must be going, I can’t find any A4 lined paper?”

“Oh, it’s just round here.” Gerard said, nodding at him to follow and leading him to where he’d only just been putting packets of lined paper on the shelf. “Lot of people actually have trouble finding it because they always expect it to be with the plain paper, but we tend to put it with the maths stuff. Don’t ask why, I’ve been trying to get it changed since I first started working here.” He explained, fully aware he was talking too much but unable to help himself. It’d been about an hour since he’d properly interacted with another human being.

The guy didn’t seem to mind though, smiling and squinting at the rows of paper, probably trying to find the best value. “How long have you worked here then?” He asked, much to Gerard’s surprise. Few people who came in here actually responded to his rambling attempts to make conversation.

Gerard thought for a moment. “Coming up to a year, I think.” He replied, much to his own surprise. “Wow, I had no idea it’d been that long.”

“Time flies, huh? I only just realised how long I’ve been at my job for the other day, and it shocked me too.” He reached out and took a packet, turning it over and inspecting it carefully. Gerard resisted the urge to point out that all the paper was more or less exactly the same, if only to keep him there talking for as long as possible. He was so incredibly bored.

“What do you do?” Gerard asked, curiously. He could usually hazard a guess as to what people did for a living, but this guy was completely unreadable. He seemed almost ageless and completely devoid of any kind of stereotypes. Gerard hadn’t thought people like that existed. Everyone seemed to fit into some kind of type, more or less, even (or especially) those who tried their hardest not to. But this guy didn’t.

“I run a diner.” The guy replied, absently, now weighing one pack of paper against another, despite them literally being the same type. “Amongst other things…”

“Oh really?” Gerard’s mind immediately went to the diner Frank worked at where Mikey liked to go. He’d only been a couple of times, but he remembered thinking how boring it must be to run a place like that, day in and out. (As though he could talk; working at fucking Staples.) This guy didn’t seem bored, though. “For how long?”

“Couple of centuries.” He replied, casually, finally looking back up at Gerard and smiling. “I think I’ll just take the plain paper. Thanks for your help, though.” And before Gerard had time to object, the man had turned and left, leaving him completely baffled by the entire exchange and questioning whether he’d heard him right.

He didn’t even notice the guy walking out the door, empty handed, in the direction of a man who’d just collapsed on the side of the road nearby.

 

“Saw your artist friend the other day.”

Frank, who’d been preparing a couple of burgers, nearly choked on his gum at Death’s words, immediately turning to stare at him. “ _What_?”

“Gerald, was it?”

“ _Gerard_.” Frank corrected him, impatiently. “When? Where?”

“On Friday, at Staples.”

“Why the hell were you at Staples? Someone kick it in aisle 3?”

Death shrugged. “I was walking past on the way to this guy who was due to have a heart attack on Main Street, but he was late so I was hanging around and I looked in and caught sight of this dude with long black hair looking so bored he wanted to off himself, and before I knew it I was walking in and asking him to help me find some lined paper.”

“Everyone knows it’s by the maths supplies.” Frank stared despairingly at Death, who was making strawberry milkshakes. “And why the fuck would you do that?”

“Language, kid.” Death pointed at the “no swearing on Sundays” sign on the wall, and Frank rolled his eyes.

“Why the _heck_ would you do that?”

“I just felt strangely drawn to his presence. He seemed familiar and I wanted to know where I’d seen him. And then I realised he was Mikey’s brother, and I couldn’t not go say hi.”

“Creep.” Frank muttered.

“And actually, apparently lots of people think that the lined paper is with the plain paper.”

“He was just saying that to make you feel better.”

“Now why would he do that if he’s such an asshole?”

Frank just scowled in response. “You just wanted to see when he dies.”

Death shifted, looking a little guilty. “Don’t lie and say you’re not curious.”

“Not one bit.” Frank said, turning away pointedly.

“Suit yourself.” Death replied, slightly amused.

“And don’t tell Mikey you know. He’ll be upset.”

“Everybody’s gotta die sometime.”

“Yeah, but Mikey doesn’t want to think about that. He loves Gerard more than anything, he’d kill for that motherfucker.”

“Interesting.” Death seemed interested by that prospect.

“ _Don’t_.” Frank said, warningly.

Death chuckled. “Calm down. Oh, and kid?”

“What now?” Frank groaned, wearily.

“You’re burning the burgers.”

“Oh shit!”

Death chuckled a little, topping up the milkshakes with whipped cream and admiring his work, proudly. He’d have to get Gerald to come and visit the diner soon. He had a feeling that kid would like milkshakes.

 

Frank didn’t like touching people. Everyone knew that - even people in his grade he’d never even talked to. For the longest time he’d been that kid who wore fingerless gloves and long sleeves in summer and waited twenty minutes to get lunch late to avoid crowds. It’d been this thing for so long that it was no longer weird to most people. Sure, he still got made fun of, but by people who were looking for any excuse to laugh at him. Honestly, there were people with weirder issues at school. People just assumed he was a germaphobe and moved on.

It was amazing, really, that he’d gone all this time without having made direct contact with anyone. It had to happen eventually, but it didn’t make it any less shitty when it did.

PE had always been a struggle. For a few minutes whilst getting changed Frank no longer had the protection of sleeves or gloves. Usually he’d sneak off into the toilets to do it - having to make Mikey wait in front of the door because the locks never worked. (Again, shitty school, shitty town.)

It was basketball that day. Frank didn’t like basketball. In fact, that was an understatement. Frank loathed basketball with all his being. This was for a number of reasons:

1\. It involved a lot of contact  
2\. Mikey was very good at it (which would be great, if they weren’t in different houses)  
3\. He was incredibly short, and therefore terrible at it.

Frank had been so opposed to going to basketball that day, in fact, that he’d almost called in sick, but had changed his mind when he’d imagined the disappointed look on his dad’s face. He couldn’t see it, of course, seeing as his dad was away. He was due to come back that evening and he couldn’t wait, but it wouldn’t be so great if he’d have to tell him he’d stayed at home that day. Unable to face the prospect of dampening their reunion, Frank had decided to stomach it that one time.

And so here he was, lingering on the edge of the court, trying to avoid the ball whenever it came near him, mostly because it brought the crowd with it, but also because he didn’t want to get hit in the face like last time… And the time before that. In fact, he got hit in the face so frequently during these games that it was obviously no coincidence.

“Iero! Catch!” And there they were, the two dreaded words. First being his name - mispronounced as usual - and second being the word “catch”, which always evoked feelings of both nausea and pure terror.

He turned quickly to catch the ball, before freezing upon seeing the masses of people charging up the court - half of them yelling at him to throw to him and the other half looking like they were about to flatten him. It was like he couldn’t move. All he could hear was this giant clamour, like a wall of sound trapping him in that one spot. They all hated him right now, he knew that, but he couldn’t help himself.

Finally he snapped back to the present but it was too late - one of the tallest guys in his grade had already shouldered him out the way, snatching the ball from him and charging off down the court to score. Frank felt himself being helplessly thrown to the ground, landing painfully on his ankle. Despite the stabbing pain in his foot, though, it wasn’t that which finished him. No, he was just beginning to scramble to his feet when he felt a hand close around his and he froze, his whole body beginning to tremble when he realised what was happening.

A girl was trying to help him up - clearly forgetting the no-touching policy - and Frank couldn’t stop staring at her hand. He couldn’t look anywhere else, because he knew it’d appear any moment. Time, day, month, year in that order.

_No no no no no no._

Frank tried to force it away, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists. _Go away go away go away._ The strain of willing his power to give out immediately began taking its toll and his eyelids began to grow heavy. The last thing he remembered was a big crowd beginning to form around him, all uttering incoherent words that seemed to bounce straight out of his ears, and a figure pushing its way to the front, shaking him and yelling his name.

“Mikey?” He whispered, and that’s when he blacked out.

 

Gerard was sitting at his desk in his pyjamas, sketching a new character and messily headbanging along to Iron Maiden (not a particularly productive combination) when he received a frantic text from Mikey.

Mikey: gee  
Please answer

Gerard’s stomach dropped, instantly grabbing the phone, his first thought being that Mikey was in some kind of danger.

Gerard: whats wrong??

His fingers were trembling as he quickly typed the text and hit send.

Mikey: can you drive here?

Gerard: to school? Why? Are you okay?

Mikey: yeah like right now

Gerard: okay im getting my keys hang in there  
you gotta tell me youre okay mikes

Mikey: im fine its frank  
Please hurry

Gerard grabbed his keys and ran out the front door, frowning down at his phone. On the one hand he was relieved Mikey was okay, but now he was just confused.

Gerard: what happened?

Mikey: ill explain when you get here

Gerard: okay hang in there

He threw his phone onto the chair next to him and began driving to school, which was luckily only five minutes away. What could possibly have happened to Frank that was serious enough to freak Mikey out that much - Mikey Way, of all people, who’d probably be mildly indifferent if he ran into Santa Claus - but not serious enough to warrant an ambulance. And why did Gerard have to come get him?

Pushing all those thoughts aside he focused on driving, making it to school fairly quickly thanks to the time of day - there was rarely much traffic at this time. When he got there he jumped out of the car and ran to reception, finding Frank slumped in a chair against Mikey, seemingly out cold.

Upon seeing him Mikey sighed with relief. “Can you help me get him up?”

“What the fuck happened?” Gerard asked, incredulously. “Is he passed out?”

“Yeah…” Mikey muttered, slinging an arm around Frank’s shoulder and Gerard did the same. “It’s hard to explain. I just need you to take him somewhere right now.”

“Doesn’t he need to go to the emergency room?” Gerard asked, looking up at the receptionist, who shrugged. The Mikey Way effect seemed to have worked its magic on her.

“It’s complicated.” Mikey grunted as he helped Gerard heave Frank onto his feet. The kid was a dead weight, and neither of the Way brothers were particularly strong.

“I wish Ray was here…” Gerard muttered, thinking wistfully of his friend, who actually possessed some upper body strength. “What about his dad? Can’t he take him?”

“He’s away.” Mikey said, his voice strained as they began to slowly carry Frank out of the gates and to the car. “He’s gonna be back tonight so after you’ve visited the old man you need to take him home and stay with him ‘til his dad gets back, ‘kay?”

Usually Gerard would be irritated by the prospect of spending extended periods of time with Frank, but the situation right now seemed so critical he just nodded. It was unlike Mikey to be so serious about anything, it was kind of freaking him out.

“He’s gonna be okay, right?” Gerard asked, uncertainly, as they heaved Frank into the passenger seat.

“Should be. I dunno. This only happened once before and it was when we were like ten. Take him to the diner where he works. D’you know where that is?”

“Course I do. You guys practically live there.” Gerard nodded, getting into the driver’s seat. “What then?”

“Tell the guy who runs it that he accidentally touched someone and then passed out.” Mikey said quickly, as though hoping to gloss over it so Gerard didn’t ask any questions.

“He touched someone?” Gerard asked, raising his eyebrows. He’d known Frank had a rule against contact but he hadn’t known it would have _this_ effect on him. “This happened because of _that_? What the fuck’s wrong with this kid?”

Mikey groaned. “Questions later, I need to get back to class, can you please just take care of him for me? I’d go round to his after school finishes but I have this dumb presentation thing today. His dad will be back soon though. Text me updates yeah?”

“Okay…” Gerard agreed, shaking his head. “See you, Mikes. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”

“Thank you so much, Gee.” Mikey said, looking like he genuinely meant it. Gerard tried to smile reassuringly as he pulled away from the school, but it was difficult considering how freaked out he was. A quick glance in Frank’s direction only made his unease worse. The kid was slumped against the car door, looking pale as a sheet and trembling all over.

“What the fuck happened to you?” He murmured, speeding off toward the diner. _And how’s this diner guy gonna help?_

 

Said diner guy didn’t look remotely phased when an out of breath Gerard burst into his diner, dragging a very pale Frank with him.

“Oh, it’s you!” He said, cheerfully. “Staples guy! How you been?”

Gerard looked up, vaguely unsurprised to find the weird guy from Staples had in fact been the owner of the diner Frank worked at. He’d had an inkling, largely because of how strangely he’d acted. It matched Frank perfectly. “Hey, nice to see you too and all but maybe a little help?”

“Sure thing.” The man came out from behind the counter and lifted Frank up with ease - though it probably wasn’t that difficult to carry him, considering his size - walking over to a nearby booth and laying Frank across the sofa. “What happened to the kid?” He didn’t seem particularly concerned. Gerard’s first thought, if he were him, would be thinking Frank was dead or something.

“Uhm, Mikey told me to tell you that he accidentally touched someone at school and then passed out. I have no idea what the fuck that means but he seemed to think you’d be able to help.”

The man’s visible confusion seemed to have cleared, so Gerard could only assume that he knew what was going on. _Well that makes one of us._

“I guess you know about the whole touching thing, right?”

“Mm.” The guy agreed, bending over to inspect Frank’s face. “You said he touched someone then passed out?”

“That’s what Mikey told me, yeah.” Gerard shrugged, glancing over at Frank, who seemed to have calmed down a little with the trembling, but was still scarily pale and sweating as though it were 40 degrees instead of 17. The temperature had dropped recently - Gerard supposed fall was on its way at last. That thought made him happy. He’d never much liked the summer.

“I guess he was trying to suppress it…” He heard the man mutter to himself, but Gerard honestly didn’t know whether he’d heard him right. It made no sense to him, either way, and he knew he wouldn’t get a straight explanation if he pressed, so he just left it.

“Can you… Help him?”

“Sure, the kid’ll be alright, he just had a bit of a shock and overreacted.”

 _Overreacted my ass_. Gerard thought to himself, still staring at Frank, passed out on the sofa. He looked so vulnerable lying there it made Gerard slightly uncomfortable. He was used to Frank being this unstoppable force of energy and passion, seeming like he’d take on anyone and anything, seeing him so helpless and weak seemed so… _Wrong_. He looked away. It felt weirdly like he was invading his privacy by looking. All he wanted right now was for Frank to sit up and tell him to fuck off or something, which was something Gerard never thought he’d be wishing for.

“So…”

“I’ll make him some soup and he’ll be fine in no time.” The man seemed very confident about this, which was the only thing stopping Gerard from scoffing.

“ _Soup_?”

“Yeah, good for the soul, as they say.”

“Do they?”

“Sure they do. D’you want some?”

Gerard realised he hadn’t eaten since probably yesterday. He’d skipped breakfast - never been a fan. “Uhm, yes please.” He said, sitting down across from Frank. “What’s your name, by the way?”

The guy laughed a little, his back turned as he started preparing this all-healing, powerful, godly soup. “You can just call me old man, everyone else does, thanks to Frankie here.”

Gerard smirked a little. That sounded like Frank. Then he caught himself and shook his head quickly. He should not be having fond thoughts about the guy lying on the sofa across from him, even if he looked all fragile and weak right now. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t turn into satan again when he got better. When he looked closely he could still see the faded bruise on his face from the fight after the whole storeroom ordeal. He was kind of jealous of Frank’s guts, really. After all that he’d just marched out of the room, went straight up to the motherfucker who locked them in there and punched him right in the mouth. Gerard didn’t exactly envy the injuries he’d received after that, but there was something about that blind courage that he couldn’t help but be slightly jealous of. He was far too spineless to do anything like that. He’d rather just melt into the shadows and go back to being treated like he didn’t exist - not that that was likely to happen now he’d been dragged into Frank’s mess of a life.

“Alright, old man.” He said, cracking a small smile and resting his head against the sofa. “How long have you known him?”

“Who, Frankie?” Gerard nodded. “Oh, must be going on, what, eleven, twelve years now? A long time, anyways.”

“Wow.” Gerard knew it’d been a long time but he’d had no idea it was that long. He supposed this guy was like a second father to Frank, really. A weird one, but hey, that explained a lot.

“Yeah, crazy right? He’s a good kid, Frankie is. Impulsive as hell and one of the shortest fuses I’ve come across, but he’s got a heart of gold, that kid.”

“He does, does he?” Gerard murmured, glancing back over at Frank. He agreed with the first two things, definitely, but _heart of gold_ , really? It seemed like a stretch, but this guy didn’t seem like the type to big people up for no good reason.

The old man looked a little amused. “I know you two have your differences, but I want you to know that, at least.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Gerard said, wryly.

“You know, I’ve never been able to get out of him what happened between you two to make you hate one another so much.”

Gerard shrugged. “He ruined my comic and then was a dick about it. And he stole my best friend from me.” He said the last part quietly, not really wanting him to catch it, but he did.

“He stole your best friend?” The old man repeated, looking interested.

Gerard wanting to sink into the floor. “Yeah.”

“That being…?”

“Mikey.” He said, softly.

“Your brother?”

“Yeah.” Gerard sighed, watching as the old man poured some soup into each bowl. “He was all I had and Frank took him from me, and I suppose I hated him for it.”

“You didn’t have any other friends?” He asked, setting the bowls on the table.

“Not really. I dunno, it’s stupid really. I just wanted him to myself. I’ve grown up now, obviously. And I have a good friend, Ray. Back then I was just so lonely, is all. I took it out on Frank and he gave it right back.”

The old man smirked. “Sounds like Frankie.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Sure does. So that’s how we got here, and probably how things will stay forever.”

“I don’t know about that.” The old man said, half to himself. “Anyway, let’s get the kid fixed up.”

 

Frank woke up with a killer headache and not half a clue where the hell he was.

Slowly and painfully blinking his eyes open, he shifted uncomfortably, trying to sit up. His head hurt _so bad_ it was like he was having a migraine - which wasn’t all that rare, actually.

“Finally awake huh?”

Frank turned toward the direction of the voice, and as his eyes finally adjusted to the light enough to make out its owner he groaned and closed them again. “Not you… Anything but you…”

“Charming way to greet your saviour.” Gerard remarked, sulkily.

“Where the fuck am I?” Frank groaned, lying back down.

“Diner. Mikey made me come to school and take you here for some reason.”

Frank shot up - regretting this a moment later when his head began to throb even more. “ _What_?”

He racked his brains for any possible explanation as to why Mikey had called Gerard of all people to take him to the diner from school? It seemed ridiculous. _Come on, Frank, think._ The last thing he remembered was being in basketball, and getting pushed over… and then someone was helping him up and- fuck, there it was. _Frank, you idiot_. Of course it couldn’t have been him taking their hand, but still, he’d let his guard down. He supposed he’d tried suppressing his power and he’d blacked out there - it’d happened once before, years ago.

“I don’t know either.” Gerard whined, looking slightly fed up. Frank couldn’t entirely blame him - if he’d been thrown into this with no clue what on earth was happening he’d be pretty pissed off too. But it wasn’t like they could exactly tell him the truth. And it wasn’t like Frank wanted to, either.

Frank groaned, forcing himself to sit up. The world was spinning ever so slightly.

“Here, the old man made you some soup, you should eat.” Gerard leaned over the table and pushed a bowl in his direction. “He only made it about ten minutes ago, it should still be vaguely warm.”

Frank reluctantly pulled the bowl toward him, not at all feeling up to eating but knowing that Death probably knew best in these matters. Once, when Frank was nine or ten, he’d come across a particularly unfriendly ghost and, whilst trying to shut it out, had ended up passing out. Mikey had brought him to Death, not wanting to worry Frank’s father, and the old man had given him soup - just like this - and had taught him how to ignore ghosts. He still saw them from time to time - sometimes he even opened himself up, if he ever wanted someone to talk to, or to get answers in a test - but it wasn’t as intense as it had been for the couple of years after his mother had died, anyway.

“Where’s he anyway?” He asked around a mouthful of soup. He could’ve waited until he’d swallowed but he knew it was Gerard’s pet peeve and he really just wanted to piss him off. And it was totally worth it, seeing Gerard grimace definitely improved his mood by a hefty fraction.

“Uhm, he went upstairs.” Gerard replied, still eyeing him distastefully. “To see a man?”

“The man upstairs.” Frank said, nodding.

“What, _god_?” Gerard was laughing, but Frank merely shrugged.

“Something like that, yeah.”

He spent little time finishing off the soup before collapsing over the table. He felt sick already. “Wow, this sucks.”

“Hey Frank?”

“What do you waaaant?” He dragged out the word for as long as he could, hoping to illustrate how little he wanted to make conversation right now. Gerard, however, either didn’t seem to get the message or simply didn’t care. Probably the latter.

“If you don’t mind me asking-“

“I do-“

“What the hell happened?”

“I’m a sick dude.” Frank muttered, vaguely. It wasn’t a lie, he did get sick a hell of a lot.

Gerard didn’t seem particularly pleased with this answer, but seemingly decided to leave it, because he fell silent.

“Why are you still here again?” Frank asked, his words muffled a little by the table.

“Wow, rude.” Gerard said, sounding personally affronted with a heavy hint of the usual melodrama. Sometimes it was impossible to believe he and Mikey were related, what with Mikey being the most measured person Frank had ever come across and Gerard flipping out at the smallest thing. “I don’t even get a thank you for saving your ass?”

“You only did it for Mikey.”

“Yeah, but I still helped you!”

“Whatever. Thanks.”

“There, was that so hard?” Frank made a gagging sound and Gerard rolled his eyes. “You’re so childish.”

“No, _you’re_ so childish.”

“Seriously?”

“ _Seriously_?” Frank mimicked, smirking when Gerard let out an exasperated sigh.

“Anyway, he told me to take you home when you’re better and stay with you till he gets there or your dad gets back so that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Frank could swear his headache was getting worse with every second. He felt so weak he could barely hold himself up. “Seriously, that’s not necessary. Just go home and draw little stick men or whatever it is you do.”

Gerard huffed. “Frank, you really think you’re getting home on your own? You can barely stand!”

“Watch me.” Frank said, stubbornly, attempting to stand far too abruptly. His legs gave way almost immediately, and Gerard darted forward to catch him before he fell. After recovering from the shock of realising that he perhaps wasn’t quite as strong as he’d thought he was, Frank looked slowly down at Gerard’s arms, which had wrapped around his waist in a hasty attempt to prevent him falling.

Gerard seemed to notice too, but didn’t withdraw them, only looked away. “You see what I mean? Idiot.”

“Shut up.” Frank mumbled. “You shouldn’t talk to sick people like that.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Put your arm around my shoulders and we’ll take it slow.”

Frank reluctantly did as he was told, but looked over his shoulder for any sign of Death. “What about the old man? Can’t I have a quick word?”

“He said he’d be gone a while.” Gerard replied, beginning to slowly help Frank out the door. “Call him later or whatever.”

“Fine.” Frank agreed, though slightly disappointed. He’d wanted to ask Death for help with this new problem that seemed to be arising.

He and Gerard took a while to stumble to his shitty car before Frank was finally able to collapse into the passenger seat, exhausted just from walking/being dragged barely ten yards.

“Your car is a load of crap.” He panted, resting his head against the window and closing his eyes.

“Don’t make me throw you out.” Gerard threatened, and Frank honestly didn’t doubt he’d follow through with that. He seemed to be very much at the end of his tether, and Frank really didn’t have the energy to test that right now, so he shut up for the rest of the short journey to his house, listening to Gerard softly singing along to the radio and trying to pretend he didn’t like the sound of his voice.

 

When they finally got to Frank’s house - and after Frank spent what felt like a decade searching every single pocket he owned for his door keys - Gerard helped Frank inside and into a chair at the dining table before collapsing on the sofa. He wasn’t even the one who’d passed out and he was completely drained.

“Make yourself at home why don’t you…” Frank grumbled.

“Thanks, I will.” Gerard called cheerfully, making a show of put his feet up on the cushions, his shoes still on. Frank didn’t have the energy to argue so he just laid his head on table, its coolness soothing his head a little. That is, until Gerard started talking again, and his headache immediately worsened again.

“Why don’t you come lie down?” Gerard asked, sitting up and patting the sofa cushion next to him.

“Only if you’re getting up.” Frank mumbled into the table.

“Obviously.”

Frank watched Gerard get up and allowed him to help Frank up and over to the sofa, taking a while to make himself comfortable before reaching for the tv remote.

“D’you want something to eat?” Gerard asked, and Frank thought he was perhaps asking more for himself than for Frank.

“Do I have anything to eat?” Frank replied, absently, flicking through the different channels until he found one of those _you are not the father_ shows.

“Uhm, lemme see.” Frank listened to Gerard rummage around in the cupboards for a while. “Well… D’you want ice cream?”

“What flavour?”

“Strawberry.”

Frank wrinkled his nose. “I only like mint and chocolate.”

“Of course you do.” Gerard rolled his eyes. “So picky.”

“Shut up.”

“Well…”

“You can have some. You’d be doing me a favour to get rid of it.” Frank muttered, curling up against the cushions.

A couple of minutes later Gerard came to sit on the chair opposite the sofa, taking out a napkin he appeared to have stolen from the diner and beginning to scribble away on it. _Does he just draw wherever he goes?_ Frank mused to himself, watching out the corner of his eye and trying to see what he was drawing.

“There’s paper…” He said, quietly, after a while. As soon as the words left his mouth he wondered why the hell he’d said them. What did he care that Gerard could draw properly? _He’s been so kind to me today, though…_ Frank thought to himself, before hating his brain for thinking such a thing. Gerard Way being kind to him? What a joke. He was just doing Mikey a favour, that was all. If he was a dick then Frank would tell Mikey and he’d be pissed at Gerard. That’s all it was.

Nevertheless, he’d said it and Gerard had heard it.

“Oh yeah?” Gerard looked over at him, surprised. Frank wanted to melt into the sofa.

“Yeah…” He fiddled with some threads on the cushion. He was beginning to burn up again and getting coherent words out was becoming difficult. “By… By the printer…” He raised a shaky finger to point in the direction of the printer, crammed in the corner of the room, surrounded by paper and books and general stuff that didn’t need to be there.

Gerard got up, abandoning the napkin on the coffee table beside him and rifling through the stuff beside the printer to find the paper. “Why do you have so much shit?” He asked, but in a less harsh tone than his words implied. Frank supposed he understood - having seen the state of his house, at least. Gerard’s room was relatively clean and orderly compared to the rest of his house - and his room was crammed full of comics and CDs and posters.

“I dunno…” Frank said, his voice coming out concerningly hoarse. He reached up and pressed his fingers to his forehead, massaging it pathetically to no effect. He suppressed a complaint, though. He didn’t want to look any more weak than he already did.

Gerard finally located some usable paper and sat back down, resting it on one of Frank’s old guitar magazines he’d picked up and starting to draw again. _He really does make himself at home._ Frank thought, too weak to say anything snarky though. “Does your dad collect stuff or is it you?”

“Both really.” Frank found himself continuing to talk without even realising he’d opened his mouth again. “Since mum died… We kept everything about her and then…” He grimaced, wrapping his arms around himself a little tighter. “... I guess we just kept going.” _Shit_. He hadn’t meant to bring his mother up. Now he was afraid to look up for two possible reasons: 1) that his mother would be there, and would be worried to see him like this and 2) Gerard would be looking at him with that pitiful look everyone gave him whenever he mentioned her. He probably even thought Frank was sounding pained because he was thinking about her - rather than the reality that he was just suffering some weird consequence of forcing his body to reject its power.

But when he did look up he found neither to be the case. He hadn’t accidentally summoned his mother and Gerard was still drawing, biting his lip as he coloured in something. “Yeah,” He said, distantly, “I guess you’re afraid of losing memories, right?”

Frank stared at him, stunned. Somehow Gerard had just completely understood his disjointed, jumbled, feverish thoughts and put them into the perfect words, and without looking at all bothered by the topic of Frank’s mum. He was completely floored for a moment, staring at Gerard as the guy hunched over his drawing, carefully sketching away.

“Yeah, that’s right.” He said, quietly. _That’s very right._ “What’re you drawing?” What prompted him to ask he had no clue. Frank was sure his feverish state was doing and saying things without stopping to consult his brain and he didn’t like it. All of a sudden he was having an actual conversation with Gerard that didn’t involve insulting each other every two seconds and he wasn’t entirely comfortable with that.

“Nothing much.” Gerard answered, a little too quickly. Too tired to pry further, Frank let it go, leaning back against the cushions and trying to calm his breathing. It was a few moments before Gerard spoke again, this time sounding less absent and more concerned. “Are you okay there?” He got up and Frank tensed when he came over and made as though to touch Frank’s forehead before seemingly remembering himself and withdrawing his hand abruptly. “You look like you’re burning up again.”

“I’m okay…” Frank murmured, blinking hard to try and focus his blurry vision. “I just… need to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” Gerard was frowning, looking freaked out. Again, Frank didn’t blame him. The poor guy was clearly so confused by whatever the hell was happening.

“Yeah…”

“Okay.” Gerard said, edgily, beginning to pace. “Okay, okay. I’m just gonna- I’ll stick around til your dad gets here, yeah?”

“Mm.” Frank felt his eyelids begin to grow heavy, Gerard’s figure becoming a blur. “Thank you, Gerard.”

Gerard said something but Frank didn’t catch it, falling away into sleep before he could make out the words.

 

Gerard was still reeling from Frank’s words by the time he heard a knock at the door, abruptly jolting him out of his thoughts. Jumping up and quickly opening the door to let Frank’s dad in, he tried to shake off his thoughts.

 _Thank you, Gerard._ Completely unprompted and sounding _genuine_. From Frank Iero? Sure, it was probably just fever talk but still, he’d said it. He’d said his name like it wasn’t poison and that realisation wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“Hey!” Gerard opened the door, smiling and hugging Frank’s dad. Their two families had been close for as long as Gerard could remember, and Frank’s dad was like a second father to him, really. He was gentler than his own father, honestly, and Gerard really liked that. As a bit of a fragile soul he didn’t get along with his straightforward, stoic father as well as he probably should. Frank’s father always listened to him without judgement and offered genuine advice that Gerard listened to more than anyone else’s.

“Hey Gerard, nice to see you.” Frank Sr. accepted his hug before stepping into the house and looking around. “Now break it to me, what’s Frankie done now? Mikey called and told me you had to come get him from school because he was injured - thanks by the way - so what’d he do? Did he get into another fight?”

Gerard shook his head. “No, no-“ before reconsidering and correcting himself. “Well, yes, but that was another time.” Frank Sr. groaned, though he didn’t look at all surprised. He had, after all, been dealing with Frank’s impulsive short fuse for even longer than Gerard had. Gerard had no idea how he did it. “He passed out in PE at school but I haven’t gotten anything else out of him. When we got back here he began to get a bit sick but he seems to have calmed down now.” He gestured to where Frank was sprawled across the sofa, hugging a cushion to his chest. He’d been tossing and turning and groaning for a while but he’d quieted down and didn’t seem to be so hot anymore, so Gerard figured he was okay.

Frank Sr. shook his head and went over to crouch next to his son, putting a hand on his forehead. Gerard watched with interest. He supposed the whole touching thing wouldn’t apply to his own father, though he had no idea why the exception. Mikey seemed to be an exception too, now he thought of it. He’d have to ask him when he got home, though he doubted he’d get a straight answer. He never seemed to these days, from anyone, for that matter.

“Thanks so much for looking after him, Gerard.” Frank’s father looked up, smiling gratefully. He didn’t seem particularly concerned so Gerard supposed the kid was alright after all. “He’s always been a sickly kid. Takes after his mother, I think. I’ll take it from here.”

“Alrighty.” Gerard said, smiling back and grabbing his jacket from the table.

“Thanks again!” He called as Gerard opened the door, and he waved back before stepping out into the night air. Leaving Frank’s house was like finally being able to breathe again. Jesus, what a fucking day. He thought to himself, getting into his car to drive home. _To think I was just planning on drawing and watching a couple of movies…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks a lot for reading, I hope I could make you smile. Comments are appreciated :)


	4. In Which the Gang Watch Star Wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank prefers dogs to humans. (Don’t we all)

Over the week following Frank’s little episode numerous theories were formed; some cool like the ones about him being a vampire or an alien, some vaguely realistic, like the one about him being the antichrist, and others just sad, like the ones about him having been abused or having some kind of mental illness. Those were the most common, probably because most people didn’t believe in vampires or aliens - or god, for that matter. Some people had started a rumour that he was afraid of girls, and that was picking up a lot of traction in the Frank Iero Hate Club (which he was still annoyed he’d never been asked to join).

It didn’t matter. As long as nobody knew the truth it was fine. Not like they’d believe it anyway - kid who likes wearing black nail polish and picking on a certain senior is best friends with the Grim Reaper and regularly fucks up burgers working at his diner. Oh, and he can see dead people. And the whole date thing would turn him into some kind of resident soothsayer. As a kid he’d considering giving that a go, thinking he’d earn a lot of money, but shockingly nobody had seemed to believe in this mystical death power he apparently possessed.

A week passed and Frank didn’t see Gerard at all, apart from very briefly in the cafeteria, wherein Gerard attempted to ignore him and Frank proceeded to very accidentally knock his food onto his lap. Not much seemed to have changed since the whole incident, and the two seemed to have silently agreed to never mention that one civil conversation they’d had ever again. He’d woken up not long after Gerard had left, feeling rather groggy but mostly just overjoyed to see his dad. He was even about to reluctantly admit how kind Gerard had been to him that day until his dad had asked him about the fight he’d gotten into and Frank had immediately went back to hating the guy’s guts. Did he really have to mention that? Frank had been trying so hard to show his dad he was being better at school and now the idiot had gone and ruined all his hard work. (Well, he’d ruined it himself technically, but fuck self reflection, he was blaming it all on Gerard.)

So really they’d made virtually no progress at all. Admitting that felt slightly empty, like that day hadn’t even happened. Frank found himself reaching into his pocket and taking out the napkin, looking at it and shaking his head in disbelief once more. After Gerard had gotten paper to draw on he’d seemingly forgotten about the napkin and had left it behind when Frank’s dad had arrived. Frank Sr. had found it on the coffee table and had showed it to him, equally confused, for though it was clearly rushed and rough, it was quite obviously a sketch of Frank’s profile.

Frank turned it over in his hand again and again, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Of course, Gerard drew everything everywhere he went, it wasn’t all that surprising really… Well, it was, considering they were sworn enemies. Most annoyingly, Gerard really had captured his likeness in a way you’d only be able to if you were properly paying attention, which only confused Frank even more.

Whatever. He shook his head, stuffing it back in his pocket and after sending Gerard one of his daily texts - this time too lazy to say anything inventive and so just going for “ur a dick” - and watching him send an equally colourful reply, he lay down on his bed, staring up at the stars he’d stuck on his ceiling. _Guess I’m not sleeping much again tonight._

 

Whenever Gerard had a problem, Ray Toro was the man for the job. They were on their lunch break, hanging out in the storeroom at the back and eating ramen as per their usual routine, listening to music probably far too loudly. Hey, maybe their elderly customers enjoyed Black Flag, you never know.

“What’s up, Gee? You’ve been staring at that flyer for knitting lessons for at least ten minutes now.”

“Thinking about takin’ it up…” Gerard replied, absently, and Ray laughed.

“Come on man, what’s your deal?”

“Nothing! Well…”

“There it is! Go on!” Ray jumped up excitedly, gesturing to him to continue.

“It’s nothing, really… It’s just, y’know how I’m redoing this year?”

“Course.”

“Well, it was supposedly so that everything would work out and I’d figure out what I wanted to do, but that’s not happening. I still have no clue what to do.”

“Ahh.” Ray leaned back in his chair - a little too far, almost falling off - and ran his hands through his brilliant and incredibly enviable mess of hair. “Don’t worry about it, Gee, you’ll figure it out, I’m sure!”

Gerard smiled a little, taking a sip of coke. Ray’s blind optimism - whilst not particularly helpful - was always strangely comforting, which was why Gerard always came to him with problems. A lot of pessimists tended to be attracted to other miserable people, but Gerard liked to surround himself with people like Ray who just wanted to make everyone around them happy. Because the guy did just that - he made him happy. Perhaps that’s why Gerard couldn’t stand Frank. The dude had some snarky response for everything - although it was admittedly pretty fun arguing back and forth with him. Not that he’d ever tell him that. “You think so?”

“Sure I do.” Ray said, his fingers tapping away on his knee along to the song. Gerard had always thought the dude lived and breathed music 24/7. Even whilst working he’d have his music playing on the shop’s sound system and would hum along as he worked. “You just need some time to figure out a balance between what you love, what you’re good at and what’ll earn you money.”

“I’ve never been very good at Venn diagrams to be honest. Almost failed stats actually.”

“ _Almost_.” Ray repeated, and Gerard laughed.

“Where do you get all this optimism from and how much is it?”

“Stop being a miserable git for two seconds and you might find out that it’s completely free.” Ray said, smiling as though he was saying something sweet.

“You know what, you’re probably right.” Gerard said, shaking his head. “But I don’t think that’s something I’m willing to give up.”

“Didn’t think so. Now I think we best be gettin’ back to work, huh?”

“I think we best be.” Gerard finished off his can and reluctantly got up out of his chair to go and scan miscellaneous office items with his usual avid enthusiasm because his job was just ever so riveting. Really it best served as a threat hanging over his head that if he didn’t figure things out soon he might end up doing this for the rest of his life. Ray had made a good point about finding a balance, but that in itself seemed practically impossible right now.

 

When Gerard finally got off work that day he checked his phone to find that he’d received a text from Mikey Way only a few minutes earlier, to his pleasant surprise. Mikey didn’t text a whole lot - he tended either to call for the smallest of things or just to exclusively communicate through very shittily taken photos of pigeons and “interestingly-shaped” clouds that really just looked like regular clouds but Mikey would insist they looked like some famous person and nobody could argue because arguing with Mikey Way is virtually impossible.

Mikes: come 2 the diner when you get off work

Gerard: not if franks gona b tbere

Mikes: we’re doing a star wars marathon

 _Goddamnit Mikey Way._ He knew Gerard would never be able to resist the offer of a Star Wars marathon.

Gerard: I hate you sometimes

Mikes: see you there :)

 

Death’s diner was an odd place, Frank supposed. He didn’t think about it a lot, since he’d been going there for most of his life, but when he did stop and consider it, perhaps it was a little odd that the owner held a weekly movie night with his only two employees where they’d bring in a couple of couches they somehow kept in the back, make popcorn and fries and watch movies all night. Not to mention that the owner was Death himself. That was a little strange too, he supposed.

For years it had always just been the three of them: Frank, Mikey and the old man. They’d watch anything from Disney movies to horror films to weird 80s anime, and it had always been Frank’s favourite part of the week.

But this time something was wrong. It was no longer just the three of them. (Well, the three of them plus the old man’s dog, who Frank often paid more attention to than the film itself.)

This time Gerard was here.

Frank was not all too happy about that.

The old man didn’t seem too bothered though - in fact he seemed quite pleased, happily welcoming him in and immediately presenting him with a milkshake. Upon his arrival Frank glared over at Mikey who simply shrugged at him, as though this had nothing to do with him, when it couldn’t have been anything else. Deciding to deal with him later, Frank sloped off to the couch to avoid interacting with Gerard, cuddling Lucky instead and getting the film up on the projector.

“Hey Frankie, feelin’ better?”

Frank didn’t bother looking up to reply, knowing the guy’s stupid face would just piss him off. It seemed nothing at all had changed since his whole embarrassing episode. In fact, Frank was almost positive he hated him more because now he’d seen Frank’s weakness, and he couldn’t stand the thought of that. “Sure.”

“Been enjoying your texts, always a pleasure to receive.” He drawled and Frank made the mistake of looking at him and instantly regretted it. He looked hot. Like, the kind of hot Frank would stop and stare at, if it weren’t Gerard. He was wearing one of those stupid jackets that he was so obsessed with and he looked really good in it and Frank couldn’t stand that. All of a sudden he was conscious of his own appearance, unknowingly running a hand through his hair and glancing down at his faded jeans, covered in stains and riddled with holes and rips. _Whatever_. He quickly snapped himself out of it. _What does it matter anyway?_

“Always a pleasure to send.” He replied with a sweet smile, finishing getting the film up. “It’s ready!” He called over to Mikey, who was helping the old man with all the snacks. There was more than usual this time and he finally knew why. Looking at all that food Mikey was dumping in front of him made him feel a little sick actually - or at least, more sick than he usually felt.

“Can Lucky have some?” He asked, stroking the dog’s silky ears and smiling when she licked his face.

“Absolutely not.” Death said, and that was that.

“Sorry girlie.” Frank muttered to Lucky, ignoring the amused look he was receiving from Gerard, no doubt for talking to a dog. “The nasty old man says you can’t have any.”

“The nasty old man doesn’t want to be clearing up her puke later because you’ve given her human food.” Death said, rummaging around on the couch for the remote, which Mikey promptly produced. Frank noticed they’d both sat on the other couch, meaning he was left alone with Gerard on the other one, now that Lucky had jumped off to sit by his feet. Wonderful, just wonderful.

“Don’t see why she’s any less eligible to human food than you are.” Frank muttered, earning a smirk from Mikey.

“What’s that?” Gerard asked, confused as ever.

“Nothing.” The other three said, simultaneously, before Frank quickly started the film, eliminating any chance of more questioning.

The night went by surprisingly smoothly after that, despite Gerard occasionally “accidentally” kicking Frank throughout and Frank very intentionally punching him back. (Also every ugly alien that came on the screen - which was about every ten seconds - Frank would point at and declare it to be Gerard.)

It seemed, however, that they’d all had a tiring week, because by the time they were halfway through Return of the Jedi all but Frank had fallen asleep. Having seen the film a gazillion times - as had the rest of them - Frank didn’t much mind turning it off. He then went and located some blankets from the mystical back room containing many items that weren’t at all necessary for the running of a diner, placing one over his brother and one over the old man before realising that only left one. Meaning, of course, that Gerard would be going without.

However, after Frank finally settled down on the couch, he looked over and caught sight of Gerard curled up in the corner of the couch, looking surprisingly small. Frank wondered if that’s how he’d looked to Gerard when he’d been ill and the guy had felt the need to capture it in a drawing on a shitty diner napkin. After a while he finally got up and edged a little closer to him, reasoning to himself that the blanket was way too big for just himself anyway, and reluctantly draping it over a sleeping Gerard, making sure it was only half covering him, before settling down, trying to keep as much distance as he could between them. It wasn’t long, however, before he fell asleep too.

 

Gerard woke up feeling stiff but warm, something soft tickling his face like- he shot up, staring in disbelief at Frank, who seconds earlier had been resting his head against Gerard’s chest. The kid was still fast asleep and Gerard quickly shifted as far away from him as possible, his heart hammering against his chest. Had he accidentally touched his skin? Would that make him ill again? Why had he been cuddled against him in the first place? What the fuck was happening?

He got up, rubbing his eyes groggily and turning to go look for Mikey, but not before throwing the rest of the blanket off of Frank’s sleeping body. If the asshole had done that on purpose he’d be exchanging colourful words later.

“Mikes?” He called, walking into the diner and running a hand through his unruly mess of hair. It really did need a cut.

“Hey Gee.” Mikey was sat at the counter, drinking coffee out of a glass like a fucking weirdo.

“No mugs?” He asked, his voice still hoarse.

“This is just how we do things here. Sleep well?”

“Uhm, sure, until I woke up being suffocated by Satan.” He groaned, exaggerating ever so slightly.

Mikey laughed, eliciting a scowl. “Saw that.”

“Why didn’t you shove him off?” _Traitor!_

“You two just looked ever so peaceful-“ He stopped when Gerard shoved him so hard he nearly fell off of his stool. “Alright, calm down. I didn’t want to wake you is all. I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose, believe me.” He did seem entirely convinced of this, and Gerard was too. Frank would never get that close to him willingly, even if it was to irritate him.

“I may have like brushed one of his arms or something in his sleep…” Gerard muttered, really wanting coffee right now. He felt like someone had punched him in the face and then left his body on the pavement. Those couches weren’t the most comfortable to sleep on, let’s just say.

“It’s fine.” Mikey said, quickly, seeming to pick up on his concern. “As long as he wasn’t awake you’re good.”

“Good.” Gerard said, catching himself too late when Mikey raised an eyebrow. “That is, last time was a real pain in the ass, I don’t want a repeat.”

“That’s what you get when you get involved with Frank Iero.” Mikey said, and even though he was smiling Gerard got the sense that he meant it.

“Seems like it.” He agreed, grimly, forcing himself to get up. “You good to go? I need to get home and make some coffee.”

“We have coffee here.” Mikey protested, holding up his abomination of a cup of coffee.

“That-“ Gerard gestured to his cup, “May be how you guys do things, but it sure ain’t how I do things. Now let’s go before I break something in a coffee-deprived fit of rage.” He was about to stumble out the door when a voice made him pause.

“Hold up!”

Gerard turned to see Frank stood in the doorway of the back room, his hand raised as though thinking it would make him stop. His dark hair was messy and his clothes were all dishevelled and Gerard forced back the word that came to mind when his brain took in all that. _No way did I just think Frank was cute. That didn’t happen._

But that word continued to linger as Frank walked up to him, hands stuffed in pockets. He couldn’t get rid of it. Well, that is, until Frank smiled at him, patted his chest condescendingly and said, “Thanks for giving me a ride, idiot.”

And with that it was gone. This guy wasn’t cute, this guy was the biggest dick Gerard knew.

“Who says I’m giving you a lift, Bilbo Baggins?” Gerard smirking when one of Frank’s eyes twitched. That wasn’t a nickname he took kindly to.

However the kid’s expression quickly turned smug once more. “Your keys do.” Indeed, he then held up Gerard’s car keys, smiling cheerfully. “Oh, and your wallet. You can have that back when we get there, though. Let’s go!”

Gerard looked over at Mikey for help, but Mikey just finished his coffee before walking over, looking amused. “He’s got you there, Gee.”

Frank smiled and Gerard really wanted to punch him. “Shall we?”

Gerard groaned, turning and storming out the diner, not even wanting to look at the little bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	5. In Which Frank is One of Those Photos in Wallet Guys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank winks at a waitress in a shitty diner.

If someone had told Frank a year ago that he would be spending his precious weekend in Gerard’s crappy car, wearing a cheap suit and eating McDonald’s on a six hour long drive to a wedding of someone he’d never met, pretending to be Gerard’s boyfriend, he would have laughed for about five minutes before possibly decking them. He was still in shock, really, that he actually was in this position and he wasn’t just in some weird ongoing fever dream.

“Why the fuck am I here?” He muttered to himself, shoving some fries in his mouth. They’d only set off twenty minutes ago but had just stopped when passing a McDonald’s, despite Gerard’s protests that there’d be many many more McDonald’s to visit later on. Frank’s insistence on his need for fries won over in the end, mostly because Gerard just wanted him to stop whining. Not that he did, even when fries were acquired. He just whined with his mouth full now, which was actually worse.

“Because I’m giving you fifty bucks.” Gerard replied, briefly glancing over at Frank, though Frank couldn’t quite make out his expression as his eyes were hidden behind shades. It was sunny, sure, but he still looked like a prick. An attractive prick, but a prick nonetheless. “And we’re going to a show, remember?”

Frank huffed and rested his cheek against the window. He was right there. Fifty dollars was nice but the main reason he’d agreed to this farce was because Gerard’s uncle was getting married in Pittsburgh and his favourite band were playing a show there, so Gerard had agreed to take him. This whole thing was ridiculous. As it turned out, Gerard had bet his cousin that by the time their uncle reached his third marriage (he’d been on his second at the time) he’d have a boyfriend and his cousin had told him that if he pulled it off he’d buy him a guitar. And so here Frank was, helping Gerard get a guitar.

“Why the hell’d he bet on something so expensive anyway?” Frank whined, watching Gerard’s fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. He knew Gerard wanted him to shut up and put some music, so he was going to make pointless conversation for as long as he could, even if he didn’t much want to talk either. Well, that was a bit of a lie. It wasn’t that he wanted to talk to Gerard, he just liked talking and he was already bored and it had only been twenty minutes. Death had always said that getting him to shut up for five minutes was as difficult as getting Mikey to talk for five minutes. (Basically saying: close to impossible.)

“‘Cos he’s rich as shit. Also he was certain it wasn’t gonna happen.” Gerard replied, tersely. Frank knew he didn’t like driving but had insisted that Gerard take the first few hours, saying Gerard would probably fall asleep at the wheel if he drove later - despite his protests that his rather dangerous addiction to coffee dictated he’d have no trouble in taking the night shift. He was wearing a slightly nicer suit than Frank (only marginally; it was still incredibly shabby) that Frank was 99% sure all three of the men in the Way family shared between them.

Frank let out a huff of laughter, spilling fries everywhere and eliciting a glare from Gerard. “I like this dude.”

“Trust me,” Gerard muttered, not looking particularly amused, “you won’t.”

“What makes you think that?”

Gerard sighed, braking at some lights. They still weren’t out of the suburbs yet - another reminder of the hell that this road trip was going to be. Frank was suddenly beginning to wonder if he should’ve made it seventy five bucks. “He’s an asshole.”

“So am I.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but the kinda asshole you hate.” Frank raised an eyebrow but Gerard just shrugged. “Wait and see. Now can you _please_ put a CD on?”

“Fine, fine.” Frank finished off his fries, and opening the compartment between them to dig through Gerard’s CD collection before finding _Licensed to Ill_ and grinning. “Didn’t know you were a Beastie Boys fan, Gee.” He liked to use Mikey’s nickname for Gerard sometimes because it pissed him off to no end.

“I’m not, Mikey is, and don’t call me that.”

“That’s why I like Mikey. He has taste, unlike some people.”

Gerard laughed, but not exactly with him. “Don’t talk to me about taste whilst holding that.”

“How dare you, this is a masterpiece.”

“You’re not putting that on.”

“What would you rather then, your majesty? Or should I start addressing you as Supreme Dictator of Good Music?”

“Nothing you like, idiot.”

They continued for a while, getting absolutely nowhere, before eventually giving up and just going for the radio instead. Green Day was playing on the first station Frank chose so he left it on and Gerard muttered his reluctant approval.

They drove without acknowledging each other’s existence for a while after that, Frank obnoxiously singing along to every song he knew and changing stations every song - which really irritated Gerard - and Gerard tapping his fingers on the steering wheel along to the rhythm of each song. Whenever a good guitar part came up he’d think of Ray and wish he was there instead of Frank. It would’ve been so fun with him. Sadly Gerard’s cousin knew Ray, and also knew that he was very much straight, otherwise Gerard would’ve chosen him over Frank in a heartbeat.

Eventually, two hours somehow elapsed and Gerard pulled over at a dodgy looking diner on the side of the road. He didn’t like stopping on road trips but it had started raining really badly and his shitty wipers couldn’t keep up with it so he could barely see. Well, that and he was admittedly getting a little hungry.

Frank - who’d been playing an unsurprisingly ineffective game of noughts and crosses with himself for some time now - looked up as he felt them stopping, frowning in confusion.

“Why’re we stopping? Are we out of gas?”

“Nah, just thought it was time for some food.” Gerard replied, parking outside the diner and scanning the parking lot for anyone shifty. Luckily it was raining so he didn’t think anyone would be lurking around - and nobody would want to steal his shitty excuse for a car anyway, he thought to himself. Perks of being broke - other broke people didn’t give a shit about your stuff because it was probably just as shitty as theirs.

Frank shrugged, obviously not opposed to the idea of more fries. “As long as they have good coffee I’m down.”

“Let’s shoot for _drinkable_ , yeah?”

Frank smirked a little and Gerard tried to ignore how much he liked it when Frank smiled. The kid spent all his time scowling Gerard forgot he actually could smile.

Shaking off those stupid thoughts Gerard finally opened the car door, immediately getting hit with a torrent of rain. “C’mon, let’s get inside before we fuckin’ drown!” He called back to Frank, who was entering the rain with an expression of mild indifference. _That kid just isn’t phased by anything._

They made it through the rain and trudged into the diner - dripping wet from just seconds outside.

“Fuck me.” Frank muttered under his breath, and Gerard couldn’t help but agree. “This is great!” He then announced, and Gerard couldn’t disagree more.

The place was grimy, that’s the first word that came to Gerard’s mind when he saw it. Grimy and ugly and full of people smoking and drinking and feeding their dogs bits of bacon from the table. In other words: both Gerard’s worst nightmare and where Frank felt right at home. Gerard had always got the distinct impression that Frank loved ugliness. What he saw in it that he was so drawn to Gerard had no clue, but it was one of the main distinctions between them. Frank loved Jersey for its ugliness and never wanted to leave, whereas Gerard couldn’t wait to get out and rinse himself of it.

Perhaps that’s why they just couldn’t get along. Their outlooks on life were just completely incompatible. Frank saw beauty in places Gerard only saw darkness. He blamed that on Jersey, but he had a sick feeling that even when he escaped it’d still all be dark. It’d been like this for so long now he didn’t think he was ever going to escape it. In a way he envied Frank and his ability to make light of anything.

Gerard looked up to see Frank had sat at a booth and was already inspecting the menu, grinning when he found it to be torn and covered in stains - some of which even looked suspiciously like blood. Gerard suddenly didn’t have much of an appetite. On the contrary, he’d never seen Frank look so pleased at the prospect of eating - something he didn’t usually enjoy unless it was exclusively fries.

Wearily he sat down at the booth too, refusing to pick up the menu and so just glancing at it distastefully from afar. He was starting to regret pulling over. Well, that is, until a flash of lightning drew his attention to the storm unfolding out the window. “Fuck, it’s really goin’ at it out there.”

“Yep.” Frank agreed, cheerfully. “Isn’t it great?”

“You do know you’re driving next?” Gerard reminded him, resting his chin on his palm. He just wanted a cup of coffee now.

“Sure, it’ll be over soon.” Frank said, seemingly unbothered.

Gerard was about to dispute that when a waitress arrived, looking as unenthralled with her job as Gerard was with the diner itself. And that was saying something.

She skipped the “can I take your” and just opted to open simply with, “Order?”

Gerard appreciated the conciseness. “I’ll take a coffee, please.” He nodded at Frank to say his order.

“Can I get fries and a salad?” The waitress looked stunned at the mention of “salad”. Gerard assumed they hadn’t had to actually make one for a long time. It was even printed on the menu in slightly smaller type as though to discourage customers from choosing it. “Oh, and your best coffee.” The little shit actually _winked_. The waitress didn’t seem particularly impressed, simply rolling her eyes and walking back to the kitchen with equal unenthusiasm.

Gerard located a vaguely usable napkin and started sketching a vampire on it using a biro he’d found in his pocket and Frank started fiddling around with his camcorder, apparently finding it absolutely necessary to capture the scene. When he started filming Gerard he gave Frank the finger until he eventually turned it off, but not before making fun of Gerard’s hair (which was just as dishevelled as Frank’s, since they had both been out in the shit storm outside) and then his shades, saying he looked like a deadbeat alcoholic rockstar with one hit song in the 90s and three ex wives. Gerard had replied that Frank looked like he kept his cigarettes stashed with his porn magazines under his bed so his dad couldn’t find them, but Frank had just laughed and turned off the camera.

Their coffee arrived fairly quickly - probably an indicator of the quality - followed eventually by Frank’s “food”.

Gerard sipped his abysmal coffee and watched Frank eating his fries. It was quite a funny image, he had to admit - Frank sat there in his soaked, shitty suit, stuffing his face with fries and grimacing every time he took a sip of coffee. Frank seemed to notice him smirking because he looked up, frowning.

“What’s so funny?”

Gerard shrugged. “You looked out of place, is all.” He gestured to Frank’s suit.

Frank pulled a face which almost seemed bashful. “It’s a bit big. It’s my dad’s. He actually married my mom in this.” He smiled a little at the thought.

“Really?” Gerard laughed, examining the suit closer. It really was a piece of crap. “Your parents really had fuck all, huh?”

Frank smirked. “You can say that again. I think my dad proposed to her with some two dollar ring he’d found in a charity store.” He shrugged. “They weren’t really bothered about this shit, really, they just wanted to get married.”

“That’s nice.” Gerard said, genuinely meaning it. That was the kind of love he wanted to have. “D’you still remember what she looks like?” He asked, not sure why he’d done so when the words were out.

Frank nodded, looking a little surprised that Gerard had asked him a personal question like that, unprompted. “Sure I do. She gets fuzzy sometimes though, so I like to have photos to remind me. Here-” He began digging around in his pockets until he found his wallet, opening it and pulling out a photograph, handing it over to Gerard. “That’s me and her. I think I was four, so she would’ve been 23 I guess.”

“Wow, she was young huh?” Gerard looked at the photo, smiling a little. The lady looked a bit like Frank - she had the same smile. And then Frank looked so tiny and innocent. Well, he’d only really lost one of those.

Frank nodded, taking back the photo, looking at it fondly before slipping it back into his wallet.

“So you’re one of those photos in wallet people, huh?” Gerard asked, amused. He hadn’t known Frank was that sentimental.

Frank scowled at him, the fondness gone as quickly as it had appeared. “Not really…”

“What else is in there?” Gerard asked, making a grab for Frank’s wallet but the kid quickly snatched it away and shoved it back into his jacket.

“Nothing! Leave it alone.” Frank glared at him, stabbing at his salad. “S’none of your business.”

“Alright, alright, calm down. I have one too, you’re not the only one.” Gerard fished out his own wallet, taking out a photo of him and Mikey as kids to show Frank who immediately snatched it out of his hands, dissolving into fits of laughter.

“Oh god, I remember that. You were so chubby!” Gerard rolled his eyes, just glad Frank wasn’t sulking anymore. “Y’know, I’ve never met any siblings who get along as well as you and Mikey do.”

Gerard considered that. He supposed Frank was right, they did get along especially well. “I suppose we do, yeah.” He hadn’t ever really though much of it. “You don’t have a sibling to get on badly with, though.” He pointed out.

“I have Mikey.” Frank said, absently, as though it were obvious.

Gerard looked out the window at where the storm didn’t seem to have much of an intention of letting up. “Yeah, I suppose you do.” He’d never thought much of that, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think I’ve ever introduced myself so here is me doing that.
> 
> Hi. This story is me trying to come to terms with death in the most light hearted way possible.
> 
> Thanks for reading the mess of words my mind decided to throw at a page. Feel free to leave a comment, I try to reply to them all!


	6. In Which Frank is Short

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr Brightside brings people together. Also if you haven’t seen the Princess Bride... see it.

The rain had let up a little by the time they paid and Gerard finally managed to drag Frank out of his new home - though only after he’d taken several videos on his camera and many photos of Gerard with various unflattering angles. He’d even somehow managed to convince the waitress to take a photo of both of them, Gerard only complying because he knew the sooner they took it the sooner he could leave. He hadn’t the faintest clue why all the photos were necessary, they were barely out of Jersey, it was hardly like they were holidaying in Europe. Gerard supposed he must’ve just gotten the camera, though with what money he had no idea. Perhaps he’d stolen it.

Gerard fell into the passenger seat, slamming the door against the rain. It wasn’t as heavy as before but it was still flooding down the windshield in streams of droplets, racing one another across the glass. It was rather nice now that he wasn’t in it.

Frank sat himself in the driver’s seat, trying to subtly pull his chair forward but failing. Gerard’s car had a knack to most things that he had only mastered over several years of stoic perseverance.

“You havin’ trouble with the pedals there, Frankie?” He asked, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Frank glared at him. “Just put it forward, asshole.”

Gerard laughed again, “Fine, fine.” He leaned forward over Frank, reaching down the back of the chair to find the lever and tugging it as hard as he could. It didn’t budge. “The fuck-“ He leaned further forward to get a good look, knowing his closeness was probably making Frank uncomfortable. This suspicion was confirmed when he glanced briefly to the side to see Frank with his cheek pressed into the headrest, looking as tense as you could get in a non-fatal situation. “Relax…” He muttered, eventually finding the empty can that’d been in the way of the lever, chucking it in the back and finally pulling the seat forwards.

“Thanks…” Frank said quietly, trying the pedals again with his foot and looking satisfied.

Gerard couldn’t believe someone who wasn’t afraid of scary dudes in dodgy diners and stroking unfriendly dogs with massive teeth and equally antisocial owners could be so rattled just by someone leaning over him to fix his chair. It seemed ridiculous, but Gerard didn’t like to judge. Everyone had their own shit, and it was only harder when it was so public. There was a lot of stuff Gerard hid that he’d hate for anyone else to know.

“Alright, let’s go.” Frank said, beginning to cheer up a little more when the car started. “Shitty Pittsburgh wedding here we fuckin’ come!”

“You might wanna censor yourself a bit when we get there.” Gerard said, trying to make himself comfortable to no avail.

“Why?” Frank asked innocently, chewing on his lip. Gerard looked away, not wanting to give his brain time to properly register how attractive that was.

“Uhm, because some of the people there probably consider “crap” a strong curse.”

Frank laughed incredulously. “You’re shitting me.”

“ _That_ is exactly what I’m talking about.” Gerard pointed out, but Frank cheerfully ignored him.

“That’s crazy. My grandfather swears more than I do.”

“Must be every other word then.” Gerard replied, his turn to be incredulous. It seemed unlikely there was anyone out there with a fouler vocabulary than Frank (though Gerard was close) but to be fair, if it was going to be anyone it’d likely be another member of the Iero family. “Frank, y’know not everyone’s family is like yours.”

Frank raised an eyebrow, turning to look at him questioningly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Firstly, watch the road.” Frank rolled his eyes but looked back ahead. “And it means that your family is a bit, well… Different, I guess.” When Frank looked surprised Gerard scoffed. “C’mon, Frank, you never noticed? Your parents had you when they were barely out of high school, you live in a shitty little apartment above a drug dealer and your father’s always away playing shows so you basically had to bring yourself up.”

“I had my grandfather.” Frank said, a little defensively. Gerard understood that; he hadn’t meant to imply that Frank Sr. was a bad father - not at all. But it was true that he was away a lot, and had largely left Frank to his own devices.

“He’s always playing shows too.”

“Yeah, but he plays locally.”

“Jazz, right?”

Frank nodded, a proud glint in his eye. It was always there when he talked about his family. For all their oddities, the Iero’s were close as could be. “He’s amazing.” He said, simply.

“So I hear.” Gerard murmured, beginning to feel sleepy, despite the coffee he’d just had. (If you could even call it that. It’d seemed like 90% hot water.) He was a little glad Frank was driving now, not that he’d ever admit that. “D’you wanna be like him then?”

Frank nodded enthusiastically, catching Gerard off guard. He knew Frank loved music but he hadn’t known he wanted to be a musician. “One day, yeah. I’m not really bothered about money, as long as I make enough for a new headstone.” He said the last part a little quietly, as he always seemed to whenever he didn’t want whoever was listening to pay attention to his words. Someone ought to tell him that it had the opposite effect. Gerard found that anything anyone said uncertainly tended to be the rawest truth.

“What happened to the old one?” He asked, softly.

“Someone knocked it over and it cracked.” Frank said, his voice strained. “We don’t really have enough to spare to get a proper nice one so we just left it for now. But one day I’m gonna save enough to get a real nice one.”

Gerard didn’t know what to say to that, his heart breaking a little at how casually Frank relayed the information that they didn’t have enough money to spare to get a proper gravestone for his mother. Instead he just leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes and mumbling something about being tired.

Frank didn’t say anything else and Gerard felt himself drifting asleep.

 

Frank had no intention of allowing Gerard a peaceful journey.

He let him sleep for about twenty minutes before finding a song to yell along to, and doing just that. He quickly stopped and dissolved into fits of laughter when Gerard started awake, immediately glaring at Frank.

“I was sleeping!”

“And? I was singing.”

Gerard groaned, running his hands through his hair. “You’re so insufferable, why did I ask you to come again?”

“Because I’m gorgeous and brilliant and bound to make your cousin jealous?” Frank suggested, winking at Gerard who presented him with the finger in response.

“You're a dick.” He muttered, starting to close his eyes again but Frank wasn’t about to let that happen.

After about another ten minutes of back and forth Frank was about to give up when he heard a familiar guitar riff and immediately leapt to turn up the stereo, grinning over at Gerard when the sounds of Mr Brightside filled the car.

Gerard tried to scowl at him but it was hard, and even he found himself quietly beginning to sing along as Frank began yelling the lyrics with far too much enthusiasm. He made a mental note never to allow Frank more than one cup of coffee again. At the diner he’d had three, followed by a rather suspect-looking donut.

By the middle of the song Gerard had given up, and they were both shouting the lyrics with equal stupid excitement. For a moment Frank forgot that he was with his arch nemesis and he was suddenly filled with a feeling of warmth he rarely felt around other people. He caught Gerard’s eye at one point and gave him an exaggerated wink, somehow managing to elicit a small smile from the guy. _Did I just get him to smile?_ That was an odd thought.

When the song finished a calmer song followed and Gerard soon fell asleep, continuing to sleep for the rest of the journey, and for some reason, whenever Frank looked over at him to wake up, he couldn’t quite bring himself to.

 

After roughly three more hours of boredom, Frank breathed a sigh of relief as he finally pulled up outside the hotel the wedding was being held at. Obviously it was taking place the next day - Frank didn’t think Gerard’s family was weird enough to hold a wedding ceremony at midnight. Well, that was debatable, actually, given the position he was currently in.

“Gerard.” He shook Gerard’s shoulder perhaps just a little rougher than he probably should have, causing the guy to start awake, looking entirely confused.

“What the-“

“We’re here.” He gestured to the window, as though the darkness surrounding them would provide any semblance of a clue as to where they were.

“Oh, right.” His voice was thick with sleep and his eyelids were blinking rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the dim light of the car. “Alright, let’s go.” He managed, shakily getting up and stepping out the car, eagerly followed by Frank.

Frank was very much looking forward to the hotel aspect. Having only seen fancy hotels like this in movies and having never stayed at one himself, nobody had broken it to him yet that things like room service and minibars weren’t actually free. In all honesty he really just wanted to see how they tucked in the sheets. It was all very fascinating to him. He’d only stayed at a couple of cheap motels before - nothing remotely close to the five star hotel Gerard’s uncle was getting married at. (He’d paid for Gerard to come, likely as an incentive, given that none of the rest of his family had wanted to.)

They checked in and rode the elevator up a few floors - much to Frank’s increasing excitement - before finally getting to their room. Frank immediately headed for the bathroom without even bothering to look at the rest of the room, having been holding it in for at least two hours. He was just finishing up washing his hands when he heard a loud groan, which he recognised as Gerard’s way of expressing any disappointment/anger/any emotion that wasn’t happiness.

“What now?” He whined, drying his hands and leaving the bathroom to discover exactly what the issue was.

It appeared Gerard’s uncle had taken the whole boyfriend thing very much to heart.

“Uhm. What the fuck is this shit?”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about when I say censoring-“

“Shut up for a sec and explain why the hell there’s only one bed.”

Gerard grimaced, clearly as unhappy with the arrangement as Frank was. “He asked if one room was okay and I said sure…”

“You idiot! You-“

“I just assumed he meant twin beds!” Gerard protested, defensively. “How was I supposed to know he’d treat us like a fuckin married couple?”

Frank groaned, running his hands over his face in exasperation. “Uh, this couldn’t get any worse.”

“Look, it’s a massive bed, we’ll be just as far away from each other as we would be in twins.” Gerard tried, begging with Frank with his eyes just to accept it. Frank sighed, not wanting to give in but knowing there was no point in arguing. Nothing could exactly be done about it now.

“Whatever, I don’t care anymore.” He began unbuttoning his shirt, and Gerard looked abruptly away. “What, too shy to look at your boyfriend shirtless?” He grumbled, rummaging around in his bag for a t-shirt. He’d only brought his wedding “attire” (which was definitely too fancy a word to describe it) and clothes to sleep in, seeing as his bag wouldn’t fit anything else.

“Shut up.” Gerard replied, and though Frank couldn’t see him he could imagine him rolling his eyes. Mikey did that too. Frank really hated it; it made him feel like an idiot.

“You gonna stand there and watch or you gonna get changed?” Frank sneered, pulling on an old band shirt.

“Whatever. I’m sleeping on the right side, though.” Gerard announced, grabbing his bag and storming off into the bathroom.

“Such a drama queen…” Frank muttered, pulling on a hoodie and hopping onto the right side of the bed. “I wonder if room service is around at this time…”

Gerard emerged out of the bathroom after changing a few minutes later to find Frank having stolen the right side of the bed from him, drawing something in a cheap-looking sketchbook. You know, one of those notebooks named “sketchbook” but with paper shittier quality than you’d find in a school textbook. Gerard could afford nice sketchbooks only because of his Staples worker discount. For a moment he considered offering to get one for Frank before realising it was Frank Iero and he was pissed off at him. Well, more than usual, anyway.

“You bastard.” Gerard muttered, dropping his stuff in the corner and reluctantly lying down on the left side of the bed. He hated the left of anything. It wasn’t that he was superstitious or anything, well not about other things anyway, it always just gave him a bad feeling is all.

“Finders keepers.” Frank proclaimed, not looking up from his sketchbook. Gerard rolled his eyes, craning his neck to see what Frank was drawing but Frank quickly covered the paper.

“You didn’t discover the bed, dumbass.”

“Neither did you, fuckwit.”

“Uhh, whatever!” Gerard gave up. Making a big deal out of it would just be weird, so he decided to leave it.

Frank smirked in victory and Gerard rolled over, facing the wall so he didn’t have to look at his smug face. “Now can we please go to sleep? I wanna at least be awake for some of tomorrow.”

“As you wish.”

“Don’t quote the Princess Bride at me.”

“Fine, fine. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He replied, grudgingly.

“Good work.”

“ _Frank_.”

“Sleep well.”

“ _Don’t you dare_.”

“Most likely kill you in the morning.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Love you too, _Gee_.”

“Fuck off.”

And he did, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I try to reply to all comments :) (these couple days are gonna span a few chapters heads up)


	7. In Which Gerard is Not a Morning Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank plays with a Rubix Cube.

Frank - being the early bird/awful sleeper he was - woke up at 7am. Blinking his eyes open he came face to face - quite literally - with a development he hadn’t been anticipating, that being Gerard’s face inches from his own. He quickly sat up, moving to the farthest end of the bed he could without falling off. Amazingly his sudden movement didn’t cause Gerard to stir even a little.

Frank stared at him, wondering how the hell they’d gotten that close when they’d started out on opposite ends of the stupidly massive bed.

Pushing any thoughts out of his mind of how they’d gotten there, Frank got up and stumbled over to the bathroom to have a shower.

By the time he got out Gerard was still fast asleep in the same position as when Frank had left him. Frank didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that Gerard seemed to be a fairly still sleeper because that would mean Frank was the one who’d gotten close to him and he didn’t want to admit that. (Even though it was incredibly obvious. Frank had never been able to keep still for five seconds, even in his sleep.)

It was only 7.30am and they didn’t need to gather with everyone until 10am so he didn’t bother waking Gerard yet and instead went to sit in one of the big chairs next to the bed, grabbing his sketchbook and inspecting last night’s work. He’d been trying to capture Gerard’s likeness the way he’d drawn Frank but wasn’t half as successful, irritatingly. He wasn’t the best artist, but he’d always thought himself rather decent. That is, until he compared himself with Gerard.

With a sigh he grabbed his wallet off of the coffee table, opening it and taking out the napkin he’d folded and slipped into one of the pockets. He stared at the sketch for some time, trying to figure out how on earth he’d done it so perfectly before putting it back again, now feeling even more discouraged.

Yesterday had been a close call when Gerard had almost taken his wallet. If he found that Frank had kept the napkin and carried it around with him then he’d have a hard time explaining himself. And it wasn’t just the napkin… Frank grabbed his wallet and stuffed it in his suit pocket, making sure it was zipped.

He drew several more attempts over the next hour or so before deciding he was hungry and throwing a pillow at Gerard’s head to wake him up. It did the trick - for a whole thirty seconds, before the little fucker had fallen right back asleep. Frank then opted for a rendition of Sabotage as loud as he could, but was silenced by a pillow to the face.

 _Okay, third time lucky._ Frank was beginning to lose his patience, deciding to resort to his old tactics.

“Look alive, you stupid fucker!” He shouted, crawling onto the bed next to Gerard and tipping a glass of water over his face, making sure to capture it all on his camcorder.

Now he was up.

Gerard spent several moments transitioning between looking confused, followed by outraged and then just pissed off. “Would you stop doing that?”

Frank fell about laughing. It was even funnier the second time. “Thought I’d wash your face for you, aren’t you grateful?”

“Fuck off.” Gerard finally got up, hugging his pillow to him and rubbing his arms.

“ _Cold_?” Frank mocked, receiving a scowl. “Someone’s not a morning person.”

“I’m having a shower.” Gerard announced, skulking off the bathroom. “If there’s coffee on the table by the time I get back then I won’t kill you for nearly drowning me.”

“Twice.” Frank added, smiling cheerfully.

Gerard disappeared into the bathroom without a word, presenting him with the finger around the door.

Frank started laughing again, watching over the footage with glee, before getting up to make coffee.

 

Several coffees and many hotel mints later Gerard and Frank were stood in the hotel lobby, Gerard awkwardly greeting estranged cousins and aunts and Frank standing there in his shitty suit, hands in pockets and looking like someone had paid him to be their prom date. (Which honestly wasn’t far from the truth now he thought about it.)

One thing Gerard was getting a lot that he definitely wasn’t a fan of was “Isn’t he a bit young for you?” which had made him laugh at first - as it was due to Frank’s height making him seem younger than he was - but was getting less and less amusing the more he heard it. In fact, now he was dreading it because each time it was said was probably another step closer to Frank punching someone, which was seeming rather inevitable at this point.

It wasn’t that Frank was being rude - quite the opposite actually. Much as he hated to admit it, Frank was actually being positively charming whenever approached (though he was prone to scowling when left to his on devices). It was Gerard’s family that was the problem, really. So far he’d had three aunts and two cousins comment that Frank looked “too young” for Gerard - to which he’d politely clarified that he was only two years younger - two of his female cousins hit on Frank and his step grandfather ask if he had quit school, to which Frank had seemed a little offended. (If not slightly proud.) Sure he had a lip ring, smelled quite distinctly of cigarettes and didn’t exactly come from the best part of town but even Gerard didn’t think he looked like a high school dropout.

To be fair, though, his step grandfather was from the ridiculously wealthy side of Gerard’s family who refused to acknowledge Gerard’s mother because they thought her too “common” or some bullshit like that.

No sign of Jake so far, irritatingly. Twenty minutes into this hell and Gerard couldn’t even gloat about having actually acquired himself a “boyfriend” yet.

Mercifully the service was due to begin soon and they began to enter the venue. Gerard took Frank’s arm and led him to the second back row, wanting to sit as far back as he could without seeming downright rude.

“Your family suck.” Frank whispered not so quietly and Gerard kicked him to shut him up, though not disagreeing. “Who’s the richest?” Frank asked after a few moments.

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “Uncle Derek. Why?”

“Which one’s he, again?” Frank asked, casually.

“If you’re thinking of robbing him, don’t bother. He doesn’t carry any cash on him.” Gerard rolled his eyes and Frank gasped, apparently personally affronted.

“Me? Rob him? I’d _never_ do anything so wicked.”

“Sure.” Gerard rolled his eyes. “Steal anything and we’re not going to the concert.”

“So boring.” Frank sulked, sitting back in his seat, scowling. Gerard laughed a little at his childishness before catching himself.

The service then started and Frank shut up for the most part, though he did offer his unnecessary but admittedly amusing commentary every now and then - pointing out an awful outfit here and an irritating child there. (To which Gerard would inform him that he was being a hypocrite and Frank would protest that he wasn’t a child, which was unfortunate, given how frequently he’d been mistaken for one that day.) However he went suspiciously quiet after a while, and when Gerard looked over to check on him - as the couple were saying their vows - he found that the little shit had fallen asleep.

He ignored him at first, reasoning that it wasn’t his uncle getting married, but after a few moments he felt something shift against his shoulder and he looked down to see Frank with his cheek against Gerard’s arm, somehow fast asleep. Gerard was about to shove him off but something stopped him and he just stared instead. After a while the lady next to him looked over and smiled, probably thinking how sweet it was that he was letting his “boyfriend” sleep on his shoulder. Backed into a corner, Gerard forced a smile back, reaching up to stroke Frank’s hair for good effect. She turned back to the front, apparently convinced, but Gerard’s fingers remained in Frank’s hair.

His hair was soft. Softer than he’d expected. It felt nice beneath his fingers. He was about to finally withdraw them when he felt Frank shift against him and froze.

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._

The kid was looking up at him, his eyes wide with shock, before jerking away from him. “What the fuck are you doing?” He hissed, eliciting several “shhh”s from the other guests around them.

“Nothing!” Gerard whispered back, defensively, unable to meet Frank’s gaze. He was completely mortified. How had he been so stupid to get caught doing that? _I’m an idiot._

Gerard avoided eye contact with Frank for the rest of the service, refusing to look at him even when Frank resorted to kicking him in the shin repeatedly. Eventually the kid gave up and tried to pay attention for about five seconds before getting out a Rubix cube. Gerard would’ve told him to put it away but he was too embarrassed even to argue with him so he just let it slide.

After what felt like decades the service was finally over and Gerard was thrilled to finally escape. The reception was being held next door, so, confident that Frank couldn’t possibly get lost (and not really caring if he did at this point), Gerard rushed off ahead to find Jake, not stopping when Frank yelled at him to wait, hearing him mutter “suit yourself, fuckwit”.

Gerard located his cousin with merciful ease, sinking into the chair beside him - though watching Frank struggling to find his name on the table across the room from him out the corner of his eye.

“So you’re fucking that dude, huh?” Strong way to open, Gerard had to give him props. Apparently Jake had decided that was an appropriate way to greet a cousin you hadn’t seen in at least three years.

“Nice to see you too, dear cousin.” Gerard replied, dryly. “And sure, if you like.”

“Not really.” Jake wrinkled his nose and Gerard shoved him lightly. “Not my type.”

“You like girls.” Gerard pointed out.

“Uhm, exactly.”

Gerard rolled his eyes, “Got me there. You owe me a guitar by the way.”

Jake grinned, raising a finger. He was wearing way too many rings on just that one finger. He was that kind of guy. The kind that Frank couldn’t _stand_. “Not so fast, I’m still not convinced you’re actually dating that guy.”

Gerard raised his eyebrows as a form of protest. “You can’t be serious, J.”

“Dead.”

“What the fuck do you want me to do to prove I’m dating him? Fuck him right here on the table?”

“Not sure nana would enjoy that.” Jake objected, gesturing to their poor grandmother sat on the other side of the table.

Gerard rolled his eyes. “You say it like it was a viable option to begin with.”

Jake raised his hands in protest. “Hey, I don’t know what goes on in Jersey!”

“Uhm, not that.” Gerard reconsidered. “Well… Depends. _Anyway_ -“

“How’s Mikey?” Jake asked, abruptly. Gerard shook his head, struggling to keep up with the pace of his cousin’s thoughts. His family were all either completely hyperactive or dead to the world. Well, except the Way brothers. He and Mikey were both an odd mix. Well, really, Gerard was dead to the world in a hyperactive way, and Mikey was very monotonously living a crazy existence.

 _I really need some coffee._ Gerard subconsciously glanced back at Frank who seemed to have either found his place or stolen someone else’s, and was currently sat at the table piling cake onto his plate and attempting to deflect Gerard’s aunt’s futile attempts to make conversation. Frank looked up and caught his eye, winking at Gerard before looking back at Gerard’s aunt to answer a question. _That fucker._

He then remembered that Jake was waiting for an answer. “Uhm, what was the question again?”

Jake, having followed his gaze back and forth, smirked. “How’s Mikey?”

“Oh, right, yeah. He’s Mikey, y’know?” Mikey was one of those people whose name you could turn into an adjective and people would know exactly what you meant.

Jake laughed, clearly no exception to that rule. “Unsurprising. Does that kid ever change?”

“I sure hope not. I like him how he is.”

Jake nodded, looking over Gerard’s shoulder. Gerard followed his gaze over to Frank, who now appeared to be telling an anecdote to some poor member of Gerard’s extended family who was just laughing along nervously. Gerard sincerely hoped it didn’t have anything to do with one of him and Mikey’s exploits involving illegal substances.

“So why'd you like him then?”

Gerard looked up at his cousin, caught off guard by the question. “Who, Frank?”

“Mm.”

Gerard leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair. “Uhm well…” He glanced back over at Frank without thinking, watching the way he fiddled with his hands as he talked. He had nice hands. Obviously he couldn’t say that though. “We don’t always see eye to eye on stuff,” he admitted, honestly. “But he has a good heart, and sense of humour. He stands up for what he believes in and he protects people he loves… Maybe a little _too_ passionately.” Gerard was surprised that his mouth was still moving, having been convinced he would be finished at “not seeing eye to eye”. He was even more surprised that he’d meant every word. “Like this one time some asshole locked him in a storeroom at school,” _Still talking, huh, Gerard?_ He didn’t want to admit he’d also been in there. “And as soon as he got out he went and found the guy and just fuckin’ decked him.”

“Sounds like a bit of a loose cannon.” Jake remarked, looking oddly amused. What was so funny Gerard had no clue.

“Yeah totally. He’s an idiot like that but it’s kinda… I’d never be able to do something like that, y’know? Disregarding strength-“

“Of which you have none-“

“Yes, _thanks_ , what I mean is, even if I could do something like that, I wouldn’t be able to. But he doesn’t give a shit.”

“You can say that again.” Jake agreed, watching Frank climb over the table to reach a biscuit he’d been fixated on for a while. “Well then, I guess I owe you a guitar.”

Gerard stared at him. “Really?” Frankly, he was astonished Jake had bought it. The second he’d asked Gerard to talk about what he liked about him he’d been certain it was over. But the funny thing was, he hadn’t lied about a thing. _I wonder what Frank would’ve said if he’d been asked what he likes about me… Probably “fuck all”._

“Yeah.” Jake replied, getting up. “Hate to say it, but I guess you win.” He left, leaving behind a very confused Gerard.

_What the fuck just happened?_

 

Frank had finally located the alcohol, and was very much enjoying his new discovery. Of course he was obviously quite underage but nobody seemed particularly fussed about that. Before he’d even realised he’d downed several glasses of champagne and had stolen a few shots of vodka when nobody was watching. His only source of fun - pissing off Gerard - had fucked off without explanation and now he was just so incredibly bored. Alcohol made everything more fun. Well, at the time, anyway.

When he felt himself becoming sufficiently intoxicated he stumbled off to find Gerard and give him a piece of his (now rather hazy) mind for abandoning him like that for no good reason. When he did find Gerard he was talking to some old lady who didn’t look like she was processing half the words he was saying, and quickly extracted him from the situation.

“What do you want, Frank?” Gerard whined, not meeting his gaze.

“You. Asshole.” He punctuated each word by poking Gerard in the chest with his finger. “How could you just leave me alone like that?”

Gerard rolled his eyes and Frank hated that so much. “Are you so hopeless you really can’t be left alone for two seconds?”

“Wow, you’re so rude.” Frank exclaimed, grabbing Gerard’s arm and dragging him over to the stage where a microphone had been set up. “I’m bored. Entertain me.”

“What are you saying?” Gerard groaned, not looking remotely in the mood. Frank didn’t much care. “Have you been drinking?”

“Course not.” Frank slurred, pushing him toward the stage insistently. “Go sing!”

“What? No!”

“Aww, why not?” Frank whined, tugging on Gerard’s shirt.

“Because!”

“That’s not an answer.” Frank said, channelling the old man. When Gerard didn’t reply he pouted. “Just cos you’re embarrassed I caught you tryna use me as a barbie doll earlier.”

“I was trying to play the part!” Gerard protested, beginning to look embarrassed all over again. “We’re supposed to be dating, you know! And what does that even mean?”

“Sure, sure. And it means what it means.” Frank smiled sweetly at him.

Gerard let out a heavy sigh. “If I sing will you sober up and stop making my life difficult?”

“Sure.” Frank shrugged, having no intention of doing the latter whatsoever.

“Okay, fine.” Gerard wearily climbed onto stage. Nobody was really paying attention but Frank took out his camcorder to capture the moment. Upon seeing it Gerard mouthed “fuck you” but seemed to know that he couldn’t go back now, so took the mic anyway. A karaoke machine had been set up and Gerard was frowning at it, probably trying to think of a song to sing.

“September!” Frank shouted, falling about laughing when Gerard just glared at him. He started wracking his brains for a song that Gerard would actually accept. “Uhm, how about Superstar?” He suggested, to which Gerard looked surprised, but nodded. Frank didn’t really know the song - only that it was by the Carpenters and that it was one of Gerard’s favourites. That he knew from Mikey, though he had no idea why he’d remembered that detail.

And so Gerard sung it and Frank watched, filming. He really did have a beautiful voice. Really beautiful.

 

After Gerard sung for him Frank did stop drinking, much to Gerard’s great relief. If Frank was an impulsive idiot whilst sober he was ten times worse whilst drunk. Luckily Gerard managed to stop him before he got past the tipsy stage, making a deal that he’d dance to one song with him if he stopped drinking. So here he was, after grudgingly dancing to September - which Frank had requested from the band after Gerard’s refusal to sing it - achingly sober, with Frank sat on his fucking lap, amusing himself by writing on Gerard’s arm in what appeared to be a sweet, loving gesture to those who thought they were dating, but was really just Frank writing “CUNT” in huge letters.

Gerard actually thought this might be the first time he’d been completely sober at a family event for at least two years. At every thanksgiving, wedding and birthday party since he was 17 he’d gotten very drunk to deal with the stress of relatives. He was only sober now partly because he actually liked his new aunt - who was marrying his uncle - but mostly because he needed to keep an eye on Frank.

Frank was mostly sober now but still acting like an idiot because Gerard had told him he didn’t think Jake was entirely convinced, so he’d now taken it way too far and decided to sit on Gerard’s lap just to spite him, whilst they watched other couples dancing. (Gerard had refused to do anymore when September was over.)

After a while Jake came over, despite Gerard’s attempts to beg him to leave with his eyes.

“Hey Gee!”

“Hey Jake.” Gerard replied, his tone as exhausted as he felt.

“And this must be little Frankie huh?” Jake was the same age as Gerard, meaning he was barely two years older than Frank. Gerard flinched, looking over at Frank, whose eye was twitching a little, likely at the word “little”.

“Depends who you’re asking.” Frank replied, evenly, and Gerard was rather impressed. He knew it was probably taking a severe amount of effort not to tell the guy to fuck right off. “If you’re asking Danny De Vito then hey, I could be big Frankie.”

Jake laughed, but Frank’s face remained blank, as though he hadn’t just made a joke. “If you say so, buddy.”

Gerard flinched again at the word “buddy”. _I did warn Frank he wasn’t gonna like him…_

“So how’d you meet my dumbass cousin then?”

Frank glanced briefly at Gerard as though asking for help and Gerard just shrugged, trying to let him know that he could just say the truth. Astonishingly Frank seemed to grasp this almost immediately. It was strange, sometimes, that despite their differences they seemed to understand one another surprisingly well. _Sometimes_. Other times Gerard wanted to punch him in the face.

“Funny story-“ Gerard scoffed as Frank opened with that. “We’ve actually known each other for pretty much all our lives. Cos of Mikey, y’know? He’s my best friend.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “That so?”

“Yep.”

“So when did you start dating then?”

“Just this year.” Frank replied, smoothly. _That motherfucker is way too good at lying._ “Funny how that happens, huh?” As if to prove his point, he pressed his face against Gerard’s chest. It would’ve been the cutest thing ever if it was a puppy and not Frank. Okay, it was still pretty cute regardless, if he was being entirely honest with himself.

“Sure is.” Jake said, smirking a little. He soon got up to leave, Gerard breathing a sigh of relief. He said he’d send Gerard the guitar - there it was clear that he had a ridiculous amount of money to flush down the toilet.

“Well, he’s a dick.” Frank announced, jumping up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna head up.”

“Whatever, I’ll be up soon, I’m just gonna say thanks to some people.” Gerard said, giving him a half hearted wave.

_Thanks for the guitar, Frank._

 

Frank was on his way up when he bumped into someone he recognised as Gerard’s grandfather - the one who he happened to be quite fond of, he’d gathered - in the elevator.

“Hey, you’re Gerard’s friend, right?” The older man said with a smile.

_You’re wrong on so many levels there, old man._

_Just go with it._ “Yep, I’m Frank, and you’re his grandfather?”

“That I am. What number do you want?”

“Uhm, excuse me?”

He gestured to the buttons on the elevator wall, patiently reiterating. “Which floor are you going to?”

“Oh, right.” Frank said, embarrassed. “Floor…” He checked his key card. “Ten.”

“Oh perfect, I’m there too.” The old man smiled, hitting the button and the elevator doors closed. He had the same eyes as Gerard. They were kind and warm and _fuck what am I thinking?_

“I heard your poor mother passed away, I’m sorry to hear that.” He seemed genuinely sorry.

“Thanks, man. It’s alright, it’s been a long time.”

“Hard to get past these things though, isn’t it?”

Frank nodded. “It is.”

“You can’t let it ruin you, though.” Frank looked up at him, surprised. “When I lost my wife I decided to take it out on everyone else but I came to learn that there’s nothing to gain from making everyone else feel bad. We have to try and be good, for the people who care about us.”

Frank thought of his father, who’d been so concerned for the last few years when Frank had been getting in trouble at school and skipping classes. He’d been trying to get better recently, but he still got into fights a lot, admittedly. (Though that was partly his dad’s fault; he definitely didn’t get his hot temper from his mum’s side.) “Yeah, you’re right.” He said, trying not to think of all the horrible things he’d said and done to Gerard. He used the fact that Gerard fought back to excuse them, but really it didn’t make his actions any better.

 _Are all the Ways this good at figuring other people out?_ It was certainly seeming like it.

“Well it was nice to meet you, kid.” For once Frank didn’t mind the term “kid”.

“Nice to meet you too.” Frank said, meaning it.

And before he knew it, he was taking his hand to shake.

_12th August, 2005. 10.34pm._

Frank started backwards, quickly dropping his hand.

“Uhm, I need to…” His mind went completely blank, breath fighting to come out evenly. “I… I gotta go.” He turned and booked it down the corridor to his room without looking to see his expression, struggling with the keycard before getting in and slamming the door. Slowly he let his back slide down against the door until he was crouched against it, tangling his fingers in his hair.

“ _Fuck_. Fuck fuck fuck, that’s not good.” He looked down at his watch, trying to get a grip of himself. What he saw didn’t help. It only confirmed his worst fears. Today was the 12th August, 2005.

The time was 8.32pm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment :)


	8. In Which Frank Nearly Gets Himself Vaporised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams are where it’s at.

* * *

Frank sat against that door for the next half hour, staring straight ahead, his mind lurching between being completely devoid of any thoughts and frantic with panic and fear. Gerard still hadn’t come back by 9.

Finally Frank started to pull himself together.

The thought had crossed his mind only once, in that time, that if he let Gerard’s grandfather be his 100th, then he’d be free. He’d never have to deal with any of this again. He could be normal. It wasn’t like he had much longer left to live anyway.

That had been the code Frank had been living by for his entire life. Sure, when he was a kid he’d dreamed of being some kind of superhero who found out when people would die and saved them, but he’d quickly discovered that the world didn’t work that way. When you interfered with Death he didn’t take kindly to it.

All the times he’d tried to save someone things had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

But Frank couldn’t live like this anymore. He liked this man. This guy was Mikey’s grandfather, his favourite relative. Gerard had talked about him for ages on the drive there, about how kind he was and how much he respected him. Frank couldn’t just be ambivalent to his death. He couldn’t use it to his own gain, he just couldn’t. He would never be able to look the Way brothers in the eye again. He didn’t think he’d even be able to look himself in the eye again.

So that was that. Frank made up his mind. He was going to save this man.

_I’m gonna need to talk to him first._

 

Confused would be an understatement, when describing Brian Miller’s reaction upon opening the door to a short teenage boy who’d sprinted away from him earlier as though he’d seen a ghost.

What Brian Miller didn’t know was that he practically had.

“Hey I’m really sorry about earlier, I, uh, remembered something important.”

Brian shrugged, opening his door wider. “That’s fine.”

Frank accepted the door, walking into the living room of the suite and sitting in the big armchair without invitation.

“Come on in…?” Brian managed, belatedly.

“I’m gonna cut to the chase.”

_This kid is strange._

“Be my guest.”

“I need you to tell me about the dream you had last night.”

 

Gerard couldn’t find Frank anywhere. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the second he’d let him out of his sight, he’d proceeded to get very drunk; insult an aunt’s son to her face and dance to far too many songs before stumbling into the elevator upon remembering Frank’s existence. In his drunken state he’d been thinking that he was the only person round here likely to be any fun.

It took him several elevator trips to remember that their room was on the 10th floor, but by the time he did reach it Frank was nowhere to be found.

“Come on Frank, this isn’t fuckin’ hide and seek!” He muttered under his breath, wracking his addled brains in an attempt to figure out where the hell the kid might be. In the end he just realised he needed to piss, so went off in search of a bathroom.

However, upon locating one things just got a whole lot worse.

A couple of minutes after he went in, several people (from the sounds of it) entered and began talking very loudly, making fun of the guests at the party. They voiced some of his own thoughts for a while - Gerard had been finished ages ago but he was waiting for them to leave because he’d heard the voice of a cousin he’d… _fallen out with_ last time he’d seen him. However, when they moved onto their next target, it wasn’t a welcome one.

“Can you believe Gerard’s fucking that kid?”

Gerard didn’t realised he’d clenched his fists until he looked down and saw nail marks on his palm.

“Why did he have to come here? Can’t he just stay in Jersey with the rest of that stupid family?”

Another guy laughed. “Right? I get dad was tryna be even handed by inviting one of ‘em but still, I wish he’d never come. And with his midget boyfriend too. The kid’s walking around wearing gloves in the middle of fuckin’ summer.”

Gerard didn’t realise he was leaving his cubicle until he was through the door, alcohol giving him confidence he never usually had. But even then his tipsy brain was screaming at him _just ignore them and get the fuck outta there._

He went over to the sink, ignoring their stares and started to wash his hands.

“Well here he is.” One of them sneered, whilst the others laughed unpleasantly. _Ignore it ignore it ignore it._

Gerard went over to the hand drier right next to them, not looking at them. This seemed to piss them off. Assholes hated being ignored.

“What, you afraid to look at me?”

Gerard looked up, meeting his gaze directly and smiling.

This seemed to irritate them even more.

“Where’s the little kid you’re fucking? Doing his homework?”

Gerard made for the door, trying to force his drunken mind not to respond.

His cousin made a show of peering into the cubicle he’d just been in. “You sure you aren’t hiding your little fag in here?”

At this point his impulse control left the chat. And he was glad it did.

He turned and punched him square in the jaw, admiring his fist afterwards. _Wow, that felt good. Now I know why Frank does this shit so much._

“Gerard?” He looked up at the sound of Jake’s voice.

“Hey!” He waved cheerfully, about to turn but stopped halfway when a fist collided quite forcefully with his face.

His cousin quickly grabbed his arm, yanking him out the bathroom and dragging him away before a proper fight could start.

“Guess you were capable of it after all, huh?” Jake nudged him and Gerard looked up, his head spinning. His face had gone all numb, probably thanks to the alcohol.

“What do you mean?”

“You said you couldn’t do what Frank does. I guess nobody had ever insulted someone you love to your face before right?”

Gerard stared at him in confusion. He was right. He hadn’t been remotely angry when they’d made fun of him, but the second they’d said something about Frank something in him had snapped and he’d just lost it. And he had never, ever considered violence a viable solution to any problem. Well, until now.

“They called him a fag.” He muttered, even saying it making him mad all over again.

“Assholes.” Jake said, shaking his head in disgust. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“Where’s Frankie?” Gerard asked, looking around as though saying his name would make him instantly materialise. “I wanna see him…”

“Don’t you know?”

“He wasn’t in the room…”

“He probably went to get food or something. He’ll be fine, let’s go.”

“Okay…” That didn’t set his mind at ease, not one bit.

 

Death didn’t much like weddings. Call it jealousy if you like, but it had more to do with pity. As someone who took loved ones away from people, there was no sadder place than a wedding full of them. A promise of eternity when one would almost certainly leave the other behind someday, and he’d be the one to lead them away.

He really wasn’t looking forward to when Frank fell in love. That was going to be a real pain in the ass.

Death checked his watch. _10.30._

Any minute now. Literally.

People often assumed that death comes right on the dot, but really it’s more like a train; rarely on time, largely unenjoyable and bloody inconvenient for everyone involved - especially the person in charge.

This one couldn’t be too late, though. It was fairly simple. Standard old person having a heart attack deal. Commonplace. Hardly tragic.

 _Come on, hurry up old fucker. I haven’t got all night._ Well, he did really. Death took hundreds of lives each minute and still had time for a drink or a nap in between each one. There really was no hurry, but what could he say, he was impatient.

Finally the sound of footsteps crossing the landing greeted his ears and he smiled. _About time._

But suddenly the footsteps stopped abruptly. After a few moments they began again, but their sound got increasingly quiet until it had faded into nothing. He was gone. That wasn’t right. He was supposed to die on the _stairs_. That wasn’t negotiable. You die where you’re told or not at all.

Death couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Sure, death came late sometimes but it always happened. No-one walked away from death, well, unless they knew it was going to happen, but they couldn’t possibly know unless- of _course_.

“Frank Iero, get down here now.” He raised his voice, calling upstairs, keeping his tone as even as possible. That’d terrify the kid.

There was silence, and he knew the little shit was weighing up the pros and cons of booking it.

“This century would be nice.”

Finally a heavy sigh, before footsteps descending the staircase, and a sheepish looking Frank came into view, mouth already open and ready to defend himself.

“Okay, I fucked up-“

“You did nothing of the sort and you know it.” Death silenced him, turning on his heel and stalking off to the bar. He didn’t look to check whether Frank was following. He didn’t need to.

 

Death ordered a whiskey for himself and a diet coke for Frank, who had gone into sulk mode, playing with his cufflinks to avoid looking at him.

“Now, are you going to tell me why you just did that?” He turned to Frank, who met his gaze defiantly. _Stupid kid’s gonna get himself killed someday with that stubbornness._

“Did what?”

“Don’t test me right now, kid.”

“I told you, I fucked up. I’m sorry-“

“Bullshit. Tell me the truth.”

“Okay, okay, fine. I saved him, alright? And I’m not sorry.”

“For fuck’s sake, kid, you know how serious this shit is, right?”

“I know…” Frank was starting to look like a kicked puppy, but one who was still clutching onto its defiance.

“Remember what happened last time?”

“I know.” He repeated, taking a sip of his coke and grimacing. “Is this _diet_?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Hey,” Frank held up his hands, mockingly defensive. “I’m about to get vaporised by the man upstairs, aren’t I at least entitled to a bit of sugar before I go?”

Death rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so melodramatic, you’re not getting vaporised. You’re probably going to get a fucking gold star, actually.”

Frank looked up, frowning in confusion. “Huh?”

Death sighed. He hated it when people were rewarded for their stupidity. “She sent me to save the old guy, you just got there first. He wasn’t supposed to die so she told me to come make sure he doesn’t kick it.”

“ _What_? She sent you to _save_ him?”

“Yes, and now you’ve gone and done my job for me. If you were planning on interfering then you could’ve told me beforehand and saved me a trip to a fucking wedding of all places.”

“Sorry.” Frank said, but he was grinning. The little bastard didn’t mean it one bit.

Death groaned. “Listen kid, this is not a go ahead to do this ever again. Just because she owes you a favour now doesn’t mean the man upstairs isn’t going to smite you in a second if you ever do something so stupid again, got that?”

“Yep!”

Death really wanted to wipe that smug grin off of his face.

“Now will you please tell me why the hell you just did that?You know the rules, you’ve been at this for over a decade for God’s sake.”

Frank looked embarrassed, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Don’t tell me it’s because of that guy.”

“What guy?” He mumbled, still not looking at him. That’s it.

“It is, isn’t it? You didn’t want to be potentially responsible for Gerald’s grandfather’s death. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Firstly, _Gerard_. And secondly…” Frank looked down, his voice becoming quiet. “… Is that so bad?”

Death couldn’t believe his ears. “ _Frank_!”

“I’m sorry, okay? I just… Once I found out I couldn’t just ignore it. How could I benefit from his death? I’d have to be sick to do that!”

Death shook his head in disbelief. “You really care about this guy, huh?”

“What?” Frank looked up, his eyes wide with confusion. “I’ve only just met him, of course I don’t.”

“Not the old man, _the Way kid._ ”

“No, I just-“ He broke off when Death raised an eyebrow, before muttering, “He’s Mikey’s grandfather too…”

“Bullshit.”

“Would you quit saying that?”

Death finished his drink and got up, suddenly incredibly tired. _Frank needs to get away from this family, for his own good._ “Whatever, kid. I’m getting outta here, and I suggest you do too, as soon as you can.”

Frank stared at him blankly, uncomprehending.

Death shook his head. “Never mind. Take this.” He dug in his pocket, finding the card and passing it to Frank. “From the man upstairs. If it were up to me she’d kill the guy anyway, to teach you a lesson, but as it would turn out his death would’ve indirectly lead to nuclear war, so perhaps it’s for the best. That would’ve made me awfully busy and I’m trying to take some time off for myself right now.”

And with that he turned and left, leaving a speechless Frank Iero staring down at the card in his hands, not knowing what to think.

All Death could think about was how if Frank didn’t stop this soon, he was in for a world of pain. He left the hotel, dusting off his hands and setting off to visit the site of a car crash in Berlin, but all he could think of was Frank.

_Just great. The pain in the ass has begun and there’s only 6 months left._

 

Frank hadn’t thought the evening could’ve gotten anymore confusing until he got back to their room to find Gerard sat on the floor, surrounded by the contents of their drawers, apparently drunk.

“The fuck are you-“ He stopped when Gerard turned to look at him. “What happened to your eye?”

“There you are!” Gerard exclaimed, getting up and walking over to him, unsteadily. (His words begged the questions: had he been looking for Frank in the drawers, and if so, did he really think Frank was that small?) Frank braced himself to get shoved into the wall or something for disappearing and probably causing him trouble, but he would never have been able to prepare himself for what he actually did.

Gerard strode straight up to Frank and hugged him. Frank froze, even though none of their skin was directly touching, separated by long sleeves and gloves. His brain wasn’t responding. _What the hell is happening?_

He didn’t pull away though. Once he got over the shock of it all, it was actually kind of nice. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been so close to another person. Gerard’s body was warm. He resisted the urge to bury his face in the fabric of his hoodie.

“Gerard…?” He managed, his voice muffled. “What are you doing…?” Panic was beginning to rise in him - as much as the closeness was nice it was also terrifying.

Gerard didn’t respond, squeezing him tighter for a moment before finally releasing him.

Frank breathed a sigh of relief, but it was tinged with slight disappointment. “What the fuck was that all about?”

“I was scared, asshole.” Gerard slurred, poking him in the chest.

“Why?” Frank asked, genuinely confused.

“Thought you’d left me.” Gerard mumbled, and Frank felt a pang in his heart. Who’d abandoned him like that before to make him so paranoid?

“I was only away for a couple hours. Sorry.” He turned away, taking off his jacket to hide his expression as he lied. “I went to the bathroom.”

“We have one here!” Gerard protested.

_Fuck him for being logical even whilst drunk!_

“The maid was cleaning in here.” He lied again.

“Why did you take so long?” Gerard whined, seemingly believing that the maid would’ve come so late.

“Got distracted.” Frank explained, vaguely, and Gerard didn’t reply, seeming to accept this. He looked up to examine his expression to see if he really had bought it, his gaze falling on the darkening bruise on Gerard’s face. He cringed. “What the hell happened?”

Gerard sat on the end of the bed and Frank slowly walked over to join him, making sure to keep some space between them when he sat beside him.

“Got into a fight.” Gerard grinned at him, apparently proud of himself.

Frank gaped at him. “The fuck you just say?”

“Got into a fight.” Gerard repeated, still smiling.

“With who?” Frank felt his temper start to flare. “Where the fuck are they?” He was getting up when Gerard grabbed his sleeve to stop him.

“I started it.”

“You _what_?”

“I started it.”

Frank sat back down, floored by this information. Gerard Way, the guy who hadn’t spoken to him for a week when he’d killed an ant in front of him, had just started a fight?

“What the hell? Why?”

“He said something mean.” Gerard muttered.

“Dude, people say shit about you at school all the time and you don’t care, why is this any different?”

“Cos…”

Frank raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“He said something ‘bout you.”

Frank didn’t think he’d heard him correctly. “Huh?”

“He said something mean about you.” Gerard repeated, frowning at the thought.

Frank stared at him, incredulously. “Why… Why’d you punch him over that?”

Gerard shrugged, not seeming as though he was about to provide an answer so Frank gave up.

“Does it… Does it hurt?” Frank looked closer at his face, the sight of the bruise making him wince a little. It looked painful.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Gerard shook his head, offering a lopsided smile. Frank wasn’t buying that for one second but he let it go. _If he wants to act all tough I’m not gonna stop him._ He didn’t stop to consider for a moment that Gerard wasn’t trying to act tough, he just didn’t want Frank to feel guilty.

“If you say so. Next time you decide to punch someone, just get me to do it, yeah? Can’t have that pretty face of yours getting ruined, can we?” He said, wryly. Gerard nodded, still smiling as though everything was totally normal and fine.

“God, I’m fucking beat.” Frank groaned, laying back on the bed and chuckling a little when Gerard copied him. He was so childish whilst drunk, it was kind of endearing, he had to admit.

“Maybe if you didn’t run around the place lookin’ for a bathroom when we have one right here you might not be so tired.” Gerard offered, earning a kick in the shin.

Okay, he wasn’t endearing at all.

“Aren’t you gonna change?” Gerard asked, when Frank closed his eyes.

“Too tired.” Frank mumbled. “Can’t be bothered.”

“Mm.” Gerard hummed his agreement. “G’night Frankie.”

“Night Gerard…” Frank replied, softly, before adding, “… stupid fuckwit.”

There was silence for a few moments, before Gerard mumbled, “Little shit.”

It was the most affectionate way Frank had ever been insulted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And thanks for all the kind words! 
> 
> Also yes, the female pronouns were intentional. Fight me.


	9. In Which Frank is a Bit Melodramatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard prioritises a guitar over Frank.

That morning they didn’t stick around for breakfast - Frank anxious to drive to the city where the concert was going to be held, and Gerard just wanting to get away from his family as fast as he could.

However, Gerard had to go and say goodbye to his uncle at least, and he did want to talk to Jake, so he left Frank upstairs early to go and do that. This left Frank incredibly bored for the five minutes he was alone, before he made up his mind to go and visit Brian.

He knocked hesitantly on his door, feeling like a bit of an idiot. However it was opened after some shuffling, and he was greeted with a warm smile.

“Hi Frank, come to say goodbye?”

“Yeah.” He said almost shyly (which was definitely a first), accepting his invitation of coming in. Frank wasn’t quite sure why he’d even decided to come, he just thought it seemed appropriate. That and he really liked him.

“I was actually just looking at some old photos and there’s some of Gerard and Michael, would you like to see?”

Frank had never said yes so quickly in his life, beginning to grin already and hurrying over to where he’d been gesturing to an old photo album.

“Now, can you guess who this is?” Brian gestured to a photo of a very small baby - probably newborn from the look of the surroundings.

“It’s Gerard.” He said, confidently, and Brian looked at him in surprise.

“You seem awfully sure!”

“It’s definitely him.” Frank said, smiling a little at the photo. It was undeniably adorable, despite who the baby had turned out to be.

“Well yes, you’re right, it is. How did you know?”

Frank shrugged, not about to tell him the real reason, which was that he’d seen the photo several times in the Way family household. He liked the impressed look on his face. “Looks like ‘im.” He then saw Mikey as a four year old and started laughing. “God I remember that outfit.” When Brian looked questioningly at him again he explained, “My parents have been friends with his since before me and Mikey were born, so we’ve known each other forever. They met at birth classes and Mikey’s parents kinda looked after mine because they were so young.”

“How young?” Brian asked, curiously, but not seeming as judgemental as a lot of people did when they found out.

“Gerard’s age.”

“Well, that is young. But you know, I had Gerard’s dad at twenty, though those were different times you see.”

Frank raised his eyebrows. “Sure were.”

“Now don’t you go settling down that young, you have a whole life to do that.”

“Trust me,” Frank mumbled, “I won’t. And I don’t.”

“Of course you do, what do you mean?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be with anyone.” He muttered, thinking about his stupid curse.

“Now that’s nonsense, you’ll find someone, I promise. Whether tomorrow or in ten years. Perhaps you already even know them!”

Frank laughed at this. “That would be nice. But I don’t really know… How to love someone like that.”

“You’re young, you’ll get the hang of it.” Brian offered, kindly. “It’s about selflessness, you’ll learn about it when you do fall in love. It may seem incomprehensible now, but one day you’ll find someone who you would do anything or give up anything for, no matter what cost to you, and that’ll be the one.”

“Really?” Frank nodded, mentally noting this down on his _things to avoid_ list, the number one entry of which was: _never fall in love_ (right above _never rewatch the Phantom Menace_ ). It wasn’t something he could afford to do.

“Absolutely. You’re too young to write these things off, kid, seventeen is still a baby, really.”

Frank smiled, again, for once unbothered by being called young or naive. Brian had such an unpatronising way of reminding him how little he knew. Then again, Brian wasn’t fully aware of the seventeen year-old he was dealing with. This kid had seen more things than any older person out there, he just hadn’t experienced much for himself.

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. Have you really never fallen in love before? Or even just admired someone?”

Frank shook his head. “I don’t think I’d know even if I had.”

“It’s simple, kid. When I first met Maria we couldn’t stand each other, can you believe?”

Frank smiled and shook his head.

“But over time I began to learn more about her and admire things I’d never knew existed, like the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, and how she always fed the cats that lived in her neighbourhood because she was afraid they’d go hungry, and how she used to teach kids English in her free time, without getting paid at all. This is when we lived in Italy, by the way. She was Italian. And then it all became clear. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and at first I had no idea what had happened. But eventually I realised I was in love with her. And that’s when I decided I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. That was that.”

“Wow.” Frank hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic. Luckily Brian didn’t seem to think he was and smiled.

“Right? I was your age, too. From then on, for the next fifty years I still managed to find new things about her I loved. I never stopped finding them, right up until she died.”

“Wow.” He repeated again. “But I don’t think anyone will ever find anything like that to love about me.” He said, frowning. “It seems impossible.”

“Kid, you don’t know what impossible is.” Frank could accept that answer. It sounded like something Death would say, which meant it was probably true. “Now, can I ask why you came with Gerard instead of Mikey? I thought you said you were Mikey’s friend?”

 _Wow this guy really doesn’t pay attention to drama_. Frank thought to himself, a little admiringly. _It’ll be interesting when he finds out later on why we came together from someone else…_ Frank didn’t like that idea - he didn’t like to think of Brian thinking he’d deceived him.

“It’s complicated.” He replied, honestly.

“So you are friends with Gerard?”

“Not really…” _Am I?_ He didn’t know anymore. “We kinda drive each other up the wall…”

“But you still care about him.” Brian finished, and Frank flinched. That prospect was becoming more and more likely and he didn’t like it. He’d been fine with his four people - Mikey, his dad, the old man and his grandfather - before Gerard had come along. He didn’t need anymore people to feel responsible for. Because that’s what it was. As much as the people he loved were precious to him, they were also a burden that he felt he had to carry and protect. The fact that it was getting even heavier was not a welcome prospect, especially not when the added weight came in the form of his best friend’s infuriating, stupid older brother.

“I guess, yeah.” He said, quietly.

“You should go tell him.”

“ _What_?”

“You should tell him that you care about him, even if he drives you up the wall. It’ll make you feel good.”

“No it won’t! It’ll be embarrassing beyond belief and I’ll want to go drown myself in the toilet bowl the second I say it!”

“Trust me.” Brian said calmly, amused at the extremity of his reaction. “It’ll make him feel good too.”

Frank huffed and didn’t meet his gaze. “Speaking of… I guess I should go find the idiot.”

“I suppose you should. Goodbye Frank, I’d love to see you again so do come along to the next family gathering.”

Frank smiled. “I’ll try.”

“And I hope to see you and Gerard getting along better next time. You’re more similar than you think.” He winked and Frank wanted desperately to ask what he meant but he found himself just laughing.

“Goodbye.” He stuck out his hand, suddenly unafraid. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too.” Brian took his hand, shaking it gently.

_21st March, 2012. 7am._

Frank smiled at him, before turning to leave. Thanks old man, I can live with that.

 

“Well, see you J.” Gerard patted his cousin’s shoulder, genuinely sad he hadn’t got the opportunity to spend more time with him. Even though he was annoying he was a good guy, and a lot of fun to be around.

“Nice to see you again.” Jake said, smiling. “We should definitely catch up again sometime, and you can play me some guitar.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

“Oh, and bring little Frankie.” Jake grinned, “I know you aren’t dating, but you sure do like him so I guess that’s half the battle, eh?”

Gerard looked up quickly. “ _What_?”

“See you later, Gee!” He patted Gerard’s chest condescendingly before taking his exit.

All Gerard could do was wave as he watched his cousin driving away, mouth hanging open. His mind was racing with unanswered questions. _What the fuck just happened? What does he mean I like him?_ And then finally: _do I still get a guitar…?_

Frank then appeared a few minutes later, thoroughly confused by the state he found Gerard to be in.

“The fuck’s your problem?” He asked, giving him a little shove as though to test if he was still all there.

“Just had a weird conversation with Jake…” Gerard replied, still a little spaced out.

“What about?”

“Doesn’t matter…”

“Alright.” Frank said, largely unbothered, fiddling with his hands restlessly. “Can we get outta here already?”

“That we can.” Gerard agreed, snapping out of it. “Let’s go get some breakfast away from these psychos.”

 

If you’re on the road, out of ideas and it’s pissing down, McDonald’s drive through is always a viable option. Especially if you’re Frank Iero.

Having ordered what Frank happily described as a “fuck load” of food - a very official unit, of course - they pulled into a parking lot to eat it. Frank immediately set about demolishing his fries whilst Gerard daintily ate chicken nuggets.

“Fuck that’s good.” He exclaimed, taking a sip of chocolate milkshake. “Why don’t I get this more often?”

“‘Cos you don’t wanna have a heart attack at fifty?” Frank suggested, around a mouthful of fries, his words verging on unintelligible.

“Do I not?” Gerard mumbled, looking over at Frank. “Seems like an alright time to go.”

Frank shook his head adamantly. “No, no, that’s the worst time to go. Fifty is-“

“When you get fat and old and useless-“

“Well, you’re already that last thing-“

“Shut up.”

Frank stuck out his tongue before continuing. “Anyway, even if you are fat and old and useless it’s still the worst time to die.”

“Pray do tell.” Gerard said, sarcastically.

Frank rolled his eyes. “It is the worst time. You’re more stable, you have a good set of friends, a good family, a partner you love, you’re financially better off. The list goes on.”

“Pfft, what do you know?”

“A hell of a lot more than you.” Frank replied, and it was true. He’d met enough dead middle aged people to know what he was talking about.

“If you say so. I didn’t know you cared about any of those things anyway.”

“What things?” Frank asked, stuffing way too many fries in his mouth at once.

“God, can you eat like a human?” Gerard muttered under his breath, before answering. “Like having a ton of friends and getting married and having a family and making money and all that shit.”

“Who says I don’t wanna get married?” He was beginning to look affronted by that assumption, which Gerard didn’t understand. It was hardly an unfair thing to insinuate.

“It’s kinda implied.” Gerard argued. “You can’t stand romance films or weddings or seeing people in love,” he began checking things off on his fingers. “You hate love songs, you’ve never been out with someone or shown any interest in doing so.”

“And?” Frank muttered, not liking where this was heading. _He knows I’m bi, isn’t that enough to prove I have at least some interest?_

“Frank, you can’t even touch other people! How the fuck do you think you’re gonna _marry_ someone?” Gerard regretted the words as soon as he said them. “Wait a sec-“

Frank’s eyes darkened for a second before he immediately undid his seatbelt and got out of the car - into the pouring rain - slamming the door and storming off.

Gerard immediately opened his own door and ran out after him, not even bothering to close it. “Frank! Hold on-“ he grabbed his sleeve but Frank yanked it away from him.

“I can’t touch anyone, remember?” He hissed, coldly, and Gerard felt terrible. He hadn’t meant to upset him. He didn’t even realise it was such a touchy subject.

“I didn’t mean it like that, alright? I’m sorry-“

Frank turned around and kept going but Gerard ran out in front of him and blocked his path. They were both getting soaked; water was dripping into his eyes and he could hardly make out Frank’s slight figure, now beginning to shiver. The kid was only wearing a thin shirt and jeans, no jacket - having discarded it in the car.

“Frankie wait, I’m sorry.” He hadn’t meant to use that name but it made Frank stop in his tracks.

“You think,” He began, slowly, “That I want to be like this? You don’t think I’d wanna be normal, huh?”

Gerard almost took a step back, before realising that’d make things even worse. Instead he stepped closer, until they were barely inches away from each other. Now he could see Frank’s face better, and he wished he couldn’t. He didn’t look angry, like usual, he looked hurt. Gerard had hurt him. He hated that. He hated that feeling more than anything.

“I know.” He said, trying to convey with his tone how sorry he was. “I… I wasn’t thinking. I know it’s not your fault, and it doesn’t mean you can’t get married or be with someone. I was being stupid, okay? Now can we get back into the car, please? You’re gonna catch a cold at this rate.” Frank was just staring at him. “Please?”

And then something weird happened. Frank stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and hugged him. Gerard was stunned for a moment, before putting his arms around him and gently squeezing him back, making sure their skin didn’t make any contact.

“It’s alright…” He murmured, uncertainly, running shaky fingers through Frank’s soaking hair. “It’s gonna be okay…” He rubbed his back, trying to soothe him. He didn’t like seeing Frank like this. He was supposed to be this snarky, feisty kid who had an answer for anything and would fight anyone. This felt wrong. But he felt like something else was going on here - other than offence at Gerard’s words. He’d unknowingly uncovered some deeper wound that clearly hadn’t healed yet. Something… Something to do with the reason he couldn’t touch people. Possibly? He really had no clue, just that it was hurting Frank.

After a few moments Frank finally pulled away, not meeting his gaze. “Can we go back to the car now?” Gerard asked, desperately.

“Sure.” Frank agreed quietly, though beginning to sound more normal again.

They walked to the car, side by side, not looking at one another. When they sat down and closed the doors, finally out of the rain, they both looked at one another simultaneously, each as dishevelled as the other. There was quiet for a moment - only the sound of the rain hitting the windscreen - before they suddenly both burst out laughing. They laughed for at least a minute before Frank finally picked up his bag of fries again, and Gerard reached for the radio.

“Here-“ He handed Frank a t-shirt he’d got out of his bag after turning on a station. “You’re soaking.”

“So are you.” Frank said, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing again. “You look so dumb.”

Gerard gave his shoulder a shove and Frank did laugh this time.

Gerard watched Frank drying his hair on the t-shirt, trying to ignore how attractive he looked at that moment, before finally asking, “What the fuck just happened?”

“Uhm…” Frank passed him back the t-shirt, which had been largely ineffective in doing its job - though to be fair to the t-shirt, that wasn’t exactly its primary function. “You said something dumb and I overreacted.”

“So what we always do, then?”

“Pretty much.” Frank said, putting his feet up on the dashboard as Gerard started to pull out of the parking lot.

They listened to music without talking for a while, before Frank said quietly, “I care about you.”

Gerard glanced sharply over at him, convinced he must’ve misheard. “Come again?”

Frank let out a heavy sigh before repeating himself. “You’re a pain in the ass and I still can’t stand you but… I care about you.”

Gerard blinked, unsure what the hell was happening. “That’s an odd way of putting it.” He yelped when Frank punched him in the shoulder. “What was that for?”

Frank scowled. “I knew he was wrong. Stupid old man…”

“Who? What- What are you on about?”

“Nothing…” Frank muttered, glaring at his hands to hide his embarrassment. He felt like an idiot. What did he expect, Gerard to say he felt the same? Why the hell would he care about Frank when all he’d done was cause him trouble?

“Okay…” Gerard said, tapping his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel. He knew he’d said the wrong thing but he was awful with words and had no clue how to respond, taken completely aback. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, he finally spoke. “I care about you too, Frank.”

As Frank was still looking down, Gerard couldn’t see the small smile on his face. After that Frank found a Misfits CD and any awkwardness was soon drowned out by the sound of them both yelling along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Leave a comment if you like it - or if you hate it, that’s cool too.


	10. In Which Frank Hits Up the Cemetery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank talks to some annoying dead people and Gerard is not a fan of graveyards.

“No, we did _not_ fuck, stop asking that!” Frank was fully aware he looked crazy, walking down the street apparently muttering to himself, but he couldn’t take any more questions. The ghosts were driving him insane.

Frank Iero had been blessed/cursed with the lack of ability to walk down the street without being hounded by spirits. You see, buildings are pretty full of them, especially schools and shopping malls. Cars are far safer, unless you’ve befriended the ghost. Funnily enough, the safest place would be your own bed, despite it being where people are most afraid to be. However, the streets are a free for all. Dead people everywhere, all desperate to know about the drama in the life of the one living person they could communicate with: Frank Iero.

It would be okay if Frank hadn’t been such a friendly, well-meaning kid, for he could’ve just ignored them all and they would’ve gone away eventually. Unfortunately, Frank’s (once) kind nature had let him down once more and so he was now stuck with a bunch of them _and_ a shitty attitude.

“Aw c’mon, tell us about what happened!” Stan Jenkins (21st September, 1999, age 14) begged, running alongside Frank, who was attempting to leave them behind. Frank had his hood up but he could still see the stupid bastard. Stan was a maths genius, which came pretty handy in tests. Frank sucked at maths so he kept him around even though he was a pain in the ass. Well, that and he loved the kid like a little brother, but he didn’t like to acknowledge that.

“Yeah!” Lindsey Shaw (30th June, 1997, age 22) shouted her agreement. She’d always been especially involved in Frank’s affairs, like an interfering older sister. It actually helped when he needed advice, but was a real pain in the ass when he didn’t want to talk about something. “You can’t just leave Jersey with some hot dude and then come back and keep us in the dark! That’s not fair!”

“He’s not hot and I can do what I like!” Frank hissed, keeping his head low to avoid the judgemental stares of the people walking past him, clearly wondering why he was having a heated argument with himself.

“He’s hot and you know it.” Cara Smith (11th February, 2003) said, rolling her eyes in that infuriating way she always did. Cara was an asshole, and so it was unsurprising that they were great friends, in life and after life.

“Shut up.” Frank muttered. “So what if he is? Doesn’t mean I fucked him- or _wanna_ fuck him for that matter!”

“Pfft.” She scoffed and he scowled at her, wishing she wasn’t dead so he could kick her like he would’ve done back in the day. “If you can't admit that you find him attractive then that’s your problem.”

“Fuck off!” Frank shouted, eliciting several confused glances from the living people around him. With a heavy sigh, he muttered, “I’ll come to the cemetery later, okay? Now will you please leave me alone?” With that the ghosts cheered and took their leave, laughing at him.

_Bunch of assholes._

Frank turned into Death’s diner, shaking his head to clear his irritation. “Think they’re so funny…” He wasn’t remotely bothered by the fact that many people had witnessed him shouting at himself. He’d lost any shame years ago.

“Who thinks they’re funny?” Mikey asked, and Frank looked up, smiling, his annoyance (mostly) dissipating at the sight of his best friend.

“Hey Mikes!” He jogged up to his friend and gave him a hug, genuinely pleased to see him. Mikey kept him sane on a daily basis, and having not seen him in a few days - there’d been the whole wedding shenanigan on the weekend and then Mikey hadn’t been at school the last couple of days - had been driving him a bit mad. “I missed ya.”

“Missed ya too.” Mikey hugged him back, before releasing him and patting the stool beside him.

“Where’s the old man?” Frank asked, sitting down and looking around. He hadn’t seen him since the debacle a few days ago, and he was anxious to set things straight. He needed Death’s advice, but he couldn’t exactly ask for it when the guy was pissed off at him.

“Throwing darts at a target with your face taped to it?” Mikey suggested, earning a friendly punch.

“You heard ‘bout that then?” Frank asked, rubbing his neck in slight embarrassment.

“Yeah, he told me. Thanks Frank, you idiot.” Mikey had his own odd way of showing gratitude, Frank had learned by now.

“That’s okay, I know you’d have done the same for me.”

“You did it for Cara too, didn’t you?”

Frank looked up, blinking in surprise. Sometimes he forgot how well he and Mikey knew each other, and then he came out with something like that and it became incredibly apparent. “How did you know?”

“I know you don’t like to talk about her in that way, but we both know that when you predict your 100th name then you won’t get to see her anymore.”

Frank looked down, his good mood faltering momentarily, before regaining it to answer. “You’re right, I don’t like talking about her like that.”

Mikey nodded, quickly understanding the plea for a change of subject. “Okay, so tell me about the wedding then.”

“Hasn’t Gerard filled you in yet?” Frank asked, surprised. Those two told each other everything.

“Sure he has, but I wanna hear your perspective. Also why does he have a black eye? He refuses to tell me.”

Frank laughed, recalling the moment he’d first seen it and how ambivalent Gerard had appeared to the whole ordeal. “He got in a fight with some dude, I think it was your cousin or somethin’. Not Jake but another one. His age.”

This seemed to register with Mikey, whose eyes widened a little in recognition before he nodded for Frank to continue.

“Yeah I’m not exactly sure what it was about, all he said was that they were talking shit pretty much.” Frank explained, purposefully leaving the reason as vague as possible.

Mikey scratched his head, confused. “Why would he flip out over that? He doesn’t care about that shit.”

Frank sighed, before reluctantly explaining, “He said they were talking shit ‘bout me.” Mikey’s eyebrows shot right up, so he quickly added. “And he was pretty drunk.”

Mikey groaned. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“He gets drunk every time and ruins it, so I made him promise he wouldn’t and look what he went and did!”

“From the sounds of it the dude kinda deserved it - and he gave it right back.” Frank said, unsure as to why he was coming across so defensive.

“Yeah, but he _promised_ me.” Mikey said, shaking his head.

“He was alright.” Frank tried to reassure him, feeling a little guilty. He hadn’t known Mikey was so concerned about this, or he would’ve kept a closer eye on him.

“Next time can you make sure he doesn’t drink too much? He relies on alcohol way too much as a coping mechanism in these situations. It’s not healthy.”

Frank nodded, Mikey’s words worrying him a little. The kid was rarely this serious about anything. “I dunno if there’s gonna be a next time but if there is, I will.” He promised. For someone who couldn’t even legally buy alcohol yet it was concerning that this was even an issue.

“Thanks Frankie.”

“No problem.”

Mikey’s face went from serious to amused in a matter of seconds, which definitely didn’t bode well.

“ _What_?” He groaned, to which Mikey blinked innocently at him.

“What?”

“You have that evil look in your eye again, go on - spit it out!”

The corner of his mouth quirked a little. “Heard you guys had to sleep in the same room, how’s that?” He was grinning now.

 _Little shit_. “Awful.” Frank scowled at him, his exaggeration mode booting up. “He’s loud and annoying and moves loads.” _Okay, I was definitely describing my own sleeping habits there._

Mikey smirked. “If you say so.” Frank threw a chip at him and he held his hands up in protest. “Fine, I’ll stop. How was the show?”

Now Frank didn’t have to exaggerate. “It was awesome. I’ve seen them tons but this has to be my favourite time.”

Mikey raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Even though Gee was there?”

“Even he couldn’t ruin it.”

“Well I’m glad to hear it. I was worried you guys wouldn’t make it back and I’d read a newspaper headline the next day reading: _seventeen year old kid beats nineteen year old senior year retaker to death with brand new guitar_.”

Frank thought back to their argument in the rain on the way back. _Not entirely inconceivable._ That had been… interesting.

Frank hadn’t been sure what had possessed him to hug Gerard then, and he was no closer to figuring it out now. Neither of them had mentioned it since and he really hoped it’d stay that way. Forever. Maybe that way it’d be easier to forget how nice it had felt at the time. For a moment he’d completely forgotten they’d been in the middle of a rainstorm.

“Seems awfully descriptive.” Frank muttered, stealing one of Mikey’s chips. “Wanna play some video games?”

“Always.”

 

Gerard was sketching at the dining table, occasionally chatting to his mum - who was reading the newspaper - when Mikey finally came home.

“Where were you?” Donna looked up from the newspaper, giving him a disapproving stare.

“Diner.” Mikey replied, showing no visible signs of remorse.

“Why didn’t you call?” She asked, exasperatedly. Mikey Way was the family’s biggest concern - despite the fact that his grades were better than Gerard’s - and that was mostly down to his general thoughtlessness. One time he’d been walking home when he’d found someone’s wallet on the floor and impulsively decided to take a two hour long round trip on the train to return it to its owner, ending up returning at midnight with no word. And he never got grounded because they were so relieved to have him back in one piece nobody had the heart to get angry at him.

“Sorry.” He said, smiling at her and shrugging his shoulders whilst she just huffed and left to go upstairs, telling them to go to bed soon.

“God Mikes, you need to be more considerate to mom.” Gerard gave his shoulder a little squeeze, saying what he’d said a hundred times.

“I know, I know, I just lose track of things.”

“Yeah, I know. So what were you doing?”

“Playin’ video games with Frank.”

Gerard looked up at the mention of Frank’s name. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mikey smiled a little. “We talked ‘bout you.”

Gerard tried to school his features into an expression of disinterest but it was pointless, he knew Mikey saw right through him. “What did he say?”

“That you’re loud and annoying in your sleep.”

Gerard scowled. _Of course._ What did he expect? “That’s him, not me.”

Mikey laughed, picking up his stuff. “You going to bed?”

Gerard shook his head. “Nah, I’m gonna stay up and draw for a while.” He gestured to his paper, which Mikey peered over at, interested. “I don’t have to go in on Thursdays remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

Gerard laughed, “What’re we gonna do with you, huh, Mikes?”

“I’m sure they’ll find some purpose for me.” Mikey said, wryly, patting his brother’s shoulder in farewell and heading upstairs.

“ _They_ huh?” Gerard frowned a little, before going back to drawing, focusing on the features of the boy stood in the rain, arms outspread, beckoning the ghost to embrace him.

 

By the time Frank got to the cemetery it was dark. Like, dark. The kind of dark kids looked for monsters lurking in; the kind Frank Iero felt right at home in. When you spend your free time conversing with the dead, the dark doesn’t scare you anymore. You’ve seen whatever’s hiding in it, and it isn’t half as scary as people like to think.

When he got to Cara’s grave, he shrugged off his backpack and sat beside it on the grass. Leaning forward, he touched his fingertips to the stone, tracing the letters of her name.

“Hey… C’mon idiot, I haven’t got all night.”

“What, got other plans, asshole?” There was empty space, and then there was Cara, as though she’d been there all along.

“I turned down tons of invitations to come visit your sorry ass.” Frank retorted, lying through his teeth.

“Like hell you did. You forget I do follow you around outside of here sometimes, I know what a loser you are.”

“Creep.” Frank muttered, picking at the daisies growing by her gravestone.

“Hey! Don’t pick my friends!” She protested immediately. Now she was sat protectively in front of them, as though her presence would make any difference.

Frank held his hands up in defeat. He didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he could just reach right past her and pick them anyway. Sometimes it hurt more to pretend she was real and sometimes it hurt far less to deny the truth for a little while.

“So?” She raised her eyebrows, expectantly. “How did it go with Mikey’s hot older brother?”

Frank rolled his eyes, “Would you quit saying that?”

“You can’t deny it.”

Frank opened his mouth and then closed it again, and she smirked at him triumphantly. “So?”

Frank sighed, lying down on the grass, feeling the grass tickling his neck. Suddenly he was completely exhausted. “I don’t know… I like him.”

“ _What_?”

Frank suddenly realised what he’d said and quickly shot up, waving his hands urgently, trying to undo the words he’d just spoken. “Not like that! I just- I don’t hate him like I used to.”

“Well that’s a start.” She was wearing school uniform, as always. The blazer had the old logo - it’d changed in the year following her death. For some reason seeing that stung more than the big gouge in her head.

Frank looked subconsciously down at his own uniform, trying to reconcile the two of them; her, hollow and dead but so _present_ , and him, very much alive but slipping away, like sand through parted fingers. Sometimes he thought perhaps she was more alive than he was. The only difference was that his heart was beating whilst hers was not. He hated that. Two years later and he still couldn’t accept that.

“So, what made you change your mind?” She pushed, snapping Frank out of his thoughts.

“He punched someone for me.”

Cara started laughing, ghostly wisps of hair falling across her face as she did so. Fifteen year-old Frank would’ve wanted to kiss her so bad if he could see her now. Luckily death had kind of put an end to that. Well, it had taken a while, but eventually it had. “Why the hell did he do that?”

Frank shrugged. “Not entirely sure. Someone was talking shit.”

“Huh. That’s all it takes for you?”

“Of course not.” Frank said, immediately, surprising himself. “He wasn’t that insufferable to be with driving there and back, you know…” When Cara looked doubtfully at him, he hurried on. “I dunno, he doesn’t look at me like I’m dead.”

Cara tilted her head, curiously. “You’re not though.”

“Yeah but thanks to you and mom, people treat me like I am anyway.”

“ _Sorry_.” She said, though smiling, not affronted in the slightest.

“You better be.” Frank murmured, smiling a little back.

“But this guy doesn’t?”

Frank shook his head, staring at the grass, trying to figure out what the hell this revelation meant. “Even though it feels like he’s from a whole other world, he never treats me like it. It kinda… kinda gives me hope that there is something else, y’know, besides death.” Cara nodded, seeming to comprehend his mess of thoughts. “In the real world, that is - _you’re_ fucked.” He added, and she laughed.

“Wow, thanks Frankie.” She drawled, but she was smiling fondly. “He makes you happy, is what you’re trying to say in your own dumbass way.”

“Is it?” Frank asked, surprised. That hadn’t been what he’d meant at all.

“Think about it.” She said, before changing the subject, not giving him enough time to ask anything else. “How’s Mikey? I miss him.”

“Yeah, he misses you too.” Frank said, scratching his knuckles. “I’ll bring him down tomorrow if you want, after school. It’ll be like old times.”

“In a cemetery.”

“Hey, we hung out here all the time.” Frank pointed out.

“And one of us will be invisible to the other.”

“I’ll relay whatever you wanna say.”

“Yeah, you always do.” Cara said this a little softer. “Thanks Frankie.”

“What for?” Frank looked up, confused. He was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to warrant gratitude. Especially from Cara - that shit was hard to get from her.

“It can’t be easy.” She said, smiling sadly. He hated that. “I’m forcing you to live in both worlds. You shouldn’t have to.”

Frank stopped picking at the grass abruptly, completely taken aback. “Seriously?” He asked, slowly. In two years she’d never mentioned feeling like any kind of burden on him. Why now? “You know I’m just happy I can still see you, right? I’ve always lived with death, it’s nothing new.”

“Well, maybe it’s time you stopped.” She murmured, still smiling, and that’s what was hurting his heart the most.

“I don’t understand…” He said, his voice catching in his throat a little. What was she getting at?

“Of course you don’t.” She replied, fondly. “I just feel like you should be trying to live more in the waking world, that’s all. I’m not being ungrateful for everything you’ve done, you know I’m incredibly grateful.”

“I work at Death’s diner, for fuck’s sake. So does my best friend. We’re all stuck with death whether we like it or not.” Frank argued, not about to accept this load of bullshit. “Why shouldn’t I be able to see you, dead or alive? If I’ve been given this gift shouldn’t I use it?”

“You’ve never thought of it as a gift though. You’ve always called it a curse.”

“Well maybe it’s both.” He said, knowing she was winning the argument.

She nodded, patiently, her eyes kinder than ever. It was the look of someone about to put an old dog down - you know it’s for its own good but you can’t bring yourself not to feel bad for it. “I’m just saying maybe it’s time you started talking to living people and doing, y’know, normal teenager things instead of spending your time in a cemetery with your dead middle school crush.” It wasn’t like Frank couldn’t see her outside the cemetery, but she was much stronger here, next to her body. Almost as though she was really there.

“I don’t like living people, though…” Frank mumbled, well aware that he was sounding like a stubborn child but unable to help it. He didn’t want to hear any of this, he just wanted to joke around like they usually did. His dad always said that was his problem - he ignored anything he needed to hear that might hurt to accept.

“But that’s not true. You talking about Gerard is what brought me to this conclusion in the first place.”

Frank stared at her, uncomprehending. “Huh?”

“You’ve obviously built a connection with this guy - the first time you’ve done that in _years_. Probably since we became friends, right? And that only happened because you found out when I was gonna die. I’ve really been a ghost to you this whole time, even before I died. But this guy, you don’t know his death date, right?”

Frank shook his head, slowly, beginning to see where she was going with this.

“So he’s the first living person whose death you don’t know that you’ve ever built a connection with, and it’s scaring you because you don’t live in the same world as him. Well, not completely anyway. Having a foot in both worlds just makes everything so much more complicated. You will never fully understand him unless you _live_.”

“I don’t want to leave you, though.” Frank whispered, beginning to panic. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. “Please don’t make me leave you.”

She reached out for him, stopping abruptly as if realising, before stretching out her fingertips toward his cheek, though they never touched. “I’m not doing that, Frankie, of course I don’t want you to leave. I just wanted to give you something to think about, okay? You have an eternity to be dead, but you only have so long to be alive. Take it from me.”

Frank put his hand on his cheek, imagining he could feel her fingers beneath it. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

“You don’t mean that, do you?” She said, smiling wryly.

“Not one bit.”

They laughed, falling back into trivial conversation as they always did when hitting an unbreachable topic. Eventually Frank had decided it was time to go, when he heard loud clang.

The cemetery gate.

That was odd.

Who the hell would be visiting the cemetery at this time besides him? Sure, they got late visitors occasionally but 2am was pushing it a bit.

“What was that?” Frank muttered, glancing over at Cara, whose eyes had darkened. Well, more than they already had been, considering she was dead and all.

“Shit. _Fuck_.” She seemed to be scolding herself.

“What?” He asked, curiously. Once again, noises in the dark = not scary when you’ve woken up in the middle of a night to a ghost sat on your wardrobe, humming Take On Me. Not that the last part of that is particularly frightening, but waking up to any supernatural presence watching you sleep is a little unsettling. So yeah, Frank wasn’t really afraid of much anymore.

“Robbers.” She said, seriously, to which Frank burst out laughing and had to be quickly shushed before he alerted the so-called “robbers” to his presence.

“Are you joking?” He whispered.

“No!” She hissed back, indignantly. “Well, I don’t know if they’re _robbers_ , that’s just what I’ve been calling them is all. They’ve been coming here every day since Tuesday with a flashlight and have just been walking around the place, shining it everywhere. Too bloody bright for a place of death.” She added, to which Frank couldn’t suppress a smirk.

“Place of death, huh? How holy.”

“Shut up, Frank, I’m being serious!”

He shrugged, indifferently. “They’re probably just edgy teenagers looking for a place to smoke, now can I go?” He started to get up but she materialised in front of him, holding out her arms.

“No!”

“You know I can just walk through you right?” Frank asked, taking a step forward, but she rushed in front of him again.

“Stop! These people could be dangerous, you don’t know what they’re doing.”

“Well I can’t bloody well stay here then, can I?” Frank reasoned, not all that concerned for his apparent “endangered” safety; more interested in going home and sleeping.

“If you go out there they’re gonna see you!”

“Then what the hell do you want me to do? I can’t exactly stay here all night, and I’m getting cold.” He gestured to his arms, which were covered in goosebumps.

“Your fault for not wearing a jacket.” She pointed out.

“I thought it’d be warmer for a summer night…”

“It’s late August, it’s not going to be warm at midnight, you idiot.”

They argued back and forth for a while, before they managed to agree on the idea of Frank getting a lift. It was just from whom which was seeming to be the problem. Mikey couldn’t drive. That was the main issue. Both Death and his father were away and the only other person he knew was…

“Call him.”

“No!” Frank starkly refused, glancing around. The guys were still there. They were talking to each other, but in low voices, so Frank couldn’t manage to catch anything besides the odd out of context phrase or two. They were carrying bags from the looks of their silhouettes, but Frank didn’t stay exposed long enough to see what they were doing with them.

“Why?”

“Uhm, because it’s two in the fuckin’ morning and I’m in a goddamn cemetery? He’s gonna think I’m a lunatic - oh, and did I mention it’s _two in the morning_?”

“Not frequently enough, apparently.” Cara replied, dryly. “Look, it’s either seem like a lunatic or possibly get bludgeoned to death.”

“Always wanted to see what it would be like to-“

“ _Frank_. Call. Him.”

“ _Fine_. Chill.”

 

Surprised wasn’t exactly the word Gerard would’ve used, when describing his reaction to receiving a phone call from Frank at 2.15am, asking him to pick him up from the cemetery. Confused, sure. Creeped out, you bet. But surprised, definitely not. It was Frank Iero we were talking about here.

After a brief and incredibly vague conversation in which Frank relayed his whereabouts and Gerard agreed to come in his haze of sleepy confusion, Gerard found himself in the car, driving the couple streets to the cemetery, where he was now parked outside, waiting for Frank to emerge. At one point it briefly crossed his mind that Frank could have been pranking him - unsurprisingly, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done something like that - and that thought stuck with him for a few minutes until he couldn’t bare it any longer and got out, heading into the cemetery.

“Frank?” He called, looking around and trying not to be too creeped out by his surroundings. “Frank?” He shouted a little louder, and a sudden pounding of footsteps startled him. It sounded like more than one person - his suspicions of this then confirmed when he was able to make out the silhouettes of two people running out the opposite end of the cemetery.

_Okay I really want out of here, that was fucking creepy._

“Frank! Answer me, you fuckwit!” He tried one last time, now convinced the bastard had set him up. He turned and began heading back to the dimly lit parking lot, furious with himself for falling for it and desperate to get out when he heard a voice finally respond.

“Gerard?”

He turned in the direction of his voice, catching sight now of Frank sat beside a gravestone to his left, shivering like a cartoon character.

“You came.” He said, sounding surprised.

“Uh, yeah.” Gerard was a bit shocked himself too, actually. “You think I was just gonna leave you in a cemetery possibly to die?”

Frank shrugged. “Seems like a convenient place to do so.”

Gerard stared at him, disbelievingly. _Is he seriously cracking jokes right now?_ “Frank, what the fuck is happening? Why are you here and why do I need to collect you?”

“I was visiting my friend.” Frank said, as though that was a perfectly reasonable explanation. “And there were some dodgy guys here, who are supposedly quite dangerous” - he said this with a hint of irony, as though referencing an inside joke Gerard wasn’t privy to, despite the fact that they were alone together - “and I didn’t fancy getting bludgeoned. Well, today, anyway. Tomorrow’s chip day at school. But you happened to scare them off with your staggering lack of subtlety, so I guess I’m gonna live to taste another undercooked cafeteria fry thanks to you and your charming idiocy.”

Gerard blinked at him for a moment before giving in. “I can’t believe I actually drove here to get you at this hour but here we are and there’s nothing I can do about it. Now can we get outta here or what?”

“Sure, lemme just say goodbye.” Frank said, and Gerard watched as he turned and stroked the engraving on the gravestone with more care than he’d seen Frank do anything. “A’ight, let’s go.”

As they left, Gerard could swear he saw the silhouettes from earlier returning. The thought of Frank alone at night in a cemetery with random, dangerous people sent a chill through him, and he was suddenly very glad he’d picked up the phone earlier.

He looked over at Frank and noticed he was still shivering. A lot. Gerard hesitated before pulling off his hoodie and moving a little closer to Frank to dump it over his shoulders.

Frank looked up with surprise. “Thanks.” Gerard watched out the corner of his eye as Frank inspected the hoodie - which was far too big for him - before pulling it over his head and hugging himself. It was undeniably cute.

“Who was that?” Gerard asked, as they got into the car and he started it.

“My friend, Cara.”

 _Oh_. Gerard had only met her a few times - and they were brief - but of course he remembered Cara. Everyone in their town did. She’d been very close friends with Mikey, so when she’d died it had caused a massive impact on their family. Gerard actually hadn’t even thought about the fact that Frank had lost her too. The thought had never crossed his mind and that made him feel terrible. He tapped his finger on the steering wheel when they had to stop at a red light, thinking carefully before asking, “How was she, then?”

He felt Frank looking curiously at him, before he replied, “She was okay. I don’t usually come this late but I couldn’t come earlier and I really wanted to see her. She was pissed off with me, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Gerard couldn’t look at him, for he was certain if he did he would burst into tears. It was hurting his heart to think of Frank sat in front of his friend’s gravestone all alone in the early hours of the morning because he missed her so much he couldn’t wait till the next day. It seemed like he’d been in such a hurry he hadn’t even remembered to grab a jacket before leaving the house.

“Yeah, she thinks I don’t spend enough time in the real world.” Frank said, relaying this all with that matter of fact tone he always used with such emotionally weighted matters. Gerard supposed that was equivalent to when he had looked away so he wouldn’t cry.

“I feel you there.” Gerard murmured, turning onto Beech Street. He believed that’s where Cara had lived - having picked Mikey up from there a few times. He wasn’t sure why he’d done so, for it was far quicker to go the other way, but his instincts had taken him down this road, probably because they’d been talking about Cara.

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Gerard nodded, trying not to look at her apartment as they drove past. A quick glance to the side saw Frank doing the total opposite - actively seeking a glimpse of the faded number on her old door. Gerard was recovering fragments of memories of her, waving from the doorstep as Mikey jogged over to the car, still smiling. That’s what love was, he thought to himself. Something that can leave you smiling afterward, without even realising you’re doing it.

Indeed, Frank was smiling a little as they drove past the apartment, and the smile lingered there even as he looked away.

Gerard wondered if Frank ever walked away from him smiling. _Stop. Why does it matter?_

“I spend all my time at home drawing or writing, when I’m not studying or at work.” He explained, softly. “Kinda always felt more comfortable somewhere else, you know? Anywhere other than where I really am. So I like to make up worlds and pretend I live in them.”

“Me too.” Frank agreed, playing with the sleeves of Gerard’s hoodie which were far too long for his arms. “I like to imagine a world where Cara’s alive, and so’s my mom and my old dog and we’d all live together and everything would be fine.”

Gerard heard him sniff a little, and he struggled to fight the tears stinging his own eyes.

“I don’t want to leave her.” Frank said, his voice so tiny Gerard almost didn’t catch it. “I don’t want to live in the real world if it means I have to leave her, Gerard.”

Gerard pulled up outside Frank’s house, switching off the engine. “Everything’s gonna be fine, Frankie.” He murmured, undoing his seatbelt and turning in his chair to pull Frank gently against him, putting his arm around his shoulders and rubbing them gently. “You’ll see, everything’s gonna be fine.” He repeated that several times, not really knowing what else to say. He’d always been awful with words.

Eventually Frank pulled away, wiping his eyes. “Sorry, I-“

“It’s fine.” Gerard said, quickly, not wanting to give him an opportunity to apologise. There was nothing to apologise for. Frank was hurting, and he’d clearly never given himself any time to heal. “It’s fine.” He repeated, firmly.

Frank nodded. “I just haven’t…” He hesitated, his voice strained. “I haven’t talked about this in a long time… I’m not even sure why I’m bringing it up now, honestly…”

 _Me neither._ “Frank, you lost your friend and you miss her, that’s okay, you know that right? You’re supposed to be upset, even if it was two years ago. You heart’s gonna take longer than that to heal, especially if you treat it as shittily as you do.” He said, perhaps a little bluntly.

Frank nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You should talk to Mikey about it-“ He paused when Frank’s face started to fall a little. “I don’t mean you can’t talk to me, you can, anytime. I just mean I think it’d be helpful to both of you. I know it’s hard, but it’ll get easier.”

“How?” Frank asked, looking up at him.

“Laughter.” Gerard said. “Last year I lost my grandma - you probably remember, me and Mikey were really close to her.”

“I remember.” Frank said, nodding.

“I repressed my feelings, went into work, served an elderly lady who looked a bit like her, had a breakdown in the staff toilet and Ray, my best friend-“

“You have friends?”

Gerard ignored the interruption. “Ray sat outside the cubicle for an hour, making me laugh, then made me go home and be with my family. After the funeral everyone crammed into our tiny house and stayed up way into the early hours telling stories about her and laughing loads and nobody even got punched. And that’s saying a lot, because my family can’t stand one another. Now when I think about my grandma I try to think about the good things that made me smile, like when she remembered my name on my last visit. _“Gerard, it’s you.”_ She said. I was so psyched that she’d remembered me - this was the first time in years. So I replied, “ _Yeah, it’s me!”_ and she followed with “ _I thought you died in India?_ ” And I laughed and told her I was fine, and she said, “ _Oh good, wouldn’t want a repeat of that._ ” And as odd as that conversation was, it still makes me smile to this day.”

Frank, who had been nodding along (despite his unnecessary interruption earlier on), bit his lip. “I get it.”

Gerard smiled a little at him and reached out to smooth some of his hair down - it had been ruffled when he’d been leaning against Gerard’s shoulder - before pulling the hood up over his eyes and laughing when Frank scowled at him from beneath it.

After a few moments of silence, Frank abruptly spoke up. “What happened in India?”

Gerard started laughing, thinking again of his grandma, apparently relieved he hadn’t perished in India. “I have no clue, I’ve never been.”

Frank started laughing too. They couldn’t stop laughing for a while, saying something else every now and then to set the other off.

Finally Frank seemed to realise they’d arrived at his house - where they’d been parked outside for the last twenty minutes - and undid his seatbelt. “Thanks, Gerard. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome, Frankie. Seriously.” He mimicked. Frank glared at him. _We just can’t be serious for more than five seconds, can we?_ “Oh, and Frank-“ Gerard stopped him when he had his hand on the door handle.

“What’s that?”

“Next time you decide to hit up the cemetery in the early hours of the morning-“

“Don’t?”

“No, just… Call me first, yeah? I’ll take you.” Frank stared at him, eyes widening a little with surprise. “Anytime, actually. Doesn’t have to be at whatever you call this ungodly hour. Anytime you want I’ll take you. You shouldn’t have to do this on your own, okay?”

Gerard watched Frank’s eyes fill with tears, and he quickly opened the door and hopped out, presumably to avoid crying in front of Gerard.

“Thank you.” Gerard heard him mumble, and though it was muffled and strained - likely from the effort of holding back tears - it sounded genuine.

As Gerard pulled away he looked at Frank in the wing mirror, and was stunned to see the expression on his face. Though he was rubbing furiously at his eyes to wipe his tears away, he was smiling. And he was _still_ smiling as he walked up the steps to open the door to his apartment.

As he finally drove away, Gerard didn’t even realise that he himself was smiling too, or that he hadn’t asked for his hoodie back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are sweet. Sorry bout the sentimentality, next chapter we’re just gonna fuck some shit up.


	11. In Which Gerard Goes on a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank is a bit of a prick in this one.

It was, in fact, fry day at school the following day. Friday, that is. The best day of Frank’s week for several reasons:

1\. It was chip day  
2\. He didn’t have to do maths that day  
3\. It was horror movie night at their local shitty cinema.

Frank had loved horror films for as long as he could remember - along with Mikey. Perhaps it was the bit of Satan in him, but there was something about watching zombies rip people to shreds en masse that was just too good to pass up. Tonight the cinema was showing a new zombie film, actually, and it looked awful. Which, of course, was all the more reason to go.

“Did you bring your history textbook?” Mikey asked him, giving his shoulder a little shove to wake him up from his daydreaming.

“Uh…” Frank leaned down and began rummaging around in his bag until he located said book, which had become the bane of his existence in recent months. The Cold War was interesting and all but if he had to learn about another Doctrine he was considering asking the Man Upstairs to engineer an actual nuclear war so he didn’t have to write another essay about it. “Yeah, here.” He pulled it out and handed it to his friend, who mumbled his gratitude around a mouthful of fries.

As he was doing so he caught sight of his notebook, stuffed in the back of his bag. He hoped it wasn’t getting torn or anything. Frank took it out and put it on the table to inspect when there was a clang and suddenly the table was flooded with water. Frank quickly grabbed his notebook but it was too late - the bottom pages were already soaking.

He immediately looked up to see some asshole from his history class walking off, looking particularly pleased with himself. Even though there was no real damage done, seeing as he hadn’t filled in the later pages, the arrogance of that guy’s (obviously) deliberate actions pissed him off so much that he immediately slammed his hand on the table and started to get up.

Mikey grabbed his arm. “Just leave it.”

Frank yanked his arm out of Mikey’s grip and stalked over to the guy, who was now laughing with his friends. Mikey followed him with a heavy sigh. He hated getting involved in Frank’s shenanigans but it was hardly like he could just leave him alone.

“The fuck was that for?” Frank walked in between the group of them and Mikey groaned.

“You think I didn’t notice you giving me the finger the other day in history?”

“Oh good, I was worried you’d missed it.”

“Are you tryna start shit with me right now?”

“No, of course not.” Frank said, wryly. “Just thought it’d be nice if you’d let me eat my pathetic excuse for a bowl of fries in peace and I’ll pay you the same courtesy.”

“Aren’t you fucking his brother?” The guy asked abruptly - clearly trying to get a rise out of him - gesturing to Mikey, whose expression remained blank. Nobody could figure out what the hell Mikey Way was thinking. Sometimes there were debates as to whether he was even thinking at all.

“Yeah, every night we jerk off over a photo of you together.”

The guy seemed taken aback by this and Mikey took it as his opportunity to drag Frank away. “Must you react to everything?”

“Those guys got off lucky…” Frank muttered and Mikey rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, sure thing, tough guy. Now can we go to history or what? If I’m late again Ford’s gonna kill me.”

“What about me?”

“I think that ship sailed, man.”

Frank shrugged. “What about my fries?”

“Did you really wanna finish those?”

Frank considered this for a moment. “Good point, Mikey Way, as usual. Let’s go learn about another summit, then.”

 

When Frank got home he was happy to find his father was sat at the table, reading a newspaper.

“Hey dad.” He dropped his bag at the doorstep and walked over to give his dad a hug. He’d left on Tuesday but Frank hasn’t expected him back so early. “Thought you were comin’ back on Sunday?”

“Last few shows got cancelled so I thought I’d come back and surprise you.” His dad smiled, getting up and giving his son a hug. “Missed you, kid.”

“I missed you too, dad.”

“Say, did you hear about the cemetery?”

Frank frowned. “No, what d’you mean?”

Frank Sr held up the local newspaper, gesturing to the front page article. “Apparently a serial killer has been hiding dead body parts down there. Seems rather obvious if you ask me.”

Frank looked up, sharply. _Robbers my ass._ “Serial _killers_.” He corrected him.

“Huh?”

“There were two.” Frank said, going over to the fridge to get a drink.

“No, no, the paper says only one person was involved.”

“There were two. I saw ‘em. Wanna come to the cinema with me and Mikes? We’re gonna see the new zombie movie.”

“Hold up, kid. What do you mean you saw them?”

“I was there and I saw two dudes with bags and flashlights. Now are you coming or not?”

His dad stared at him for a few moments before eventually reaching for his jacket. “I’m coming.”

As they were leaving Frank’s father looked over at him wearily and muttered, “Just because you know you won’t die doesn’t mean you won’t get hurt.”

Frank shrugged. “I’ll heal.”

“Hm.” Frank Sr wasn’t convinced.

 

Gerard was going on a date. He was very much regretting that decision.

He had a funny relationship with dating. He complained when he wasn’t dating, but hated the actual act. He hated making plans and trying to get out of the person where they wanted to go and what they wanted to do. He hated the awkwardness of meeting someone for the first time and realising they were no fit at all. He hated the fact that he would realise what a massive mistake it had been to agree to go on a date with that person about two minutes in, but be trapped for the rest of the evening.

Hell, he even didn’t much enjoy making out with that person when he inevitably got drunk and snuck them into his room in the basement. But that was reserved for people he’d been seeing for at least a few weeks, so unfortunately it was off the table today, as it was a first date. The worst of all.

Most of all, he hated cinema dates. Having to go and see some shitty action film to make sure everyone was relatively satisfied, when he’d much rather be watching some horror film; watching them judge him for the amount of popcorn he’d order; having to sit next to them in awkward silence for the duration of the film because most people didn’t appreciate his commentary. (He couldn’t help it, he liked talking about the film as it happened.)

And yet here he was. About to go on a cinema date. Well, technically he was already on a cinema date, but it hadn’t really begun yet because they hadn’t yet gotten to the cinema itself. Instead they were awkwardly walking down the street, Gerard finding a new insecurity in his outfit every time he looked down, and the other guy being decidedly uninteresting company.

He was from work, but didn’t work the same shifts as Gerard. They’d only met through a mutual colleague, and Gerard had only agreed to a date out of politeness and slight curiosity. Admittedly, the guy was hot, but his looks were proving to be all he had going for him thus far.

“So, where are you studying?” Gerard asked, attempting to get him to shut up about basketball for a second. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, he just knew very little about the subject and didn’t like embarrassing himself by trying to pretend he did.

“Community college.” The guy - or Sam, as his name was - answered, looking a little embarrassed. “Lame, right?”

Gerard shrugged. “I’m retaking senior year, so you’re ahead of me.” He offered a wry smile, which Sam didn’t return. Apparently he’d taken him a little seriously.

“Really? Why?”

Gerard rubbed the back of his neck, now wishing he’d never brought it up. He’d just wanted to make the guy feel better, not tell him his life story five minutes into the date. “Uh, it’s complicated. I had a bit of a shit year and that fucked my grades, so here I am.” He tried to keep his tone light, silently pleading the guy to move on.

“How was it shit?”

 _Wow, he really can’t catch a hint, can he?_ Gerard decided to give him the benefit of the doubt - at least he was asking about him. He’d been on dates where the other person wouldn’t shut up about themselves all night and never asked him anything. Still, he was reluctant to talk about this to a relative stranger. The only people he’d talked to were Mikey, Ray and his therapist. “Some stuff happened. And I wasn’t all that healthy to begin with, so school wasn’t much of a priority for a while.”

“What’re you gonna do when you’re done?”

There it was, Gerard’s least favourite question. “Uhm, I’m not sure to be honest… I’m not really good at anything - anything that’s useful, that is. I just wanna get out of this town really, maybe go work in the city. Anyway, look we’re here.” He happily announced the last part, rushing forward to hold the door. His eagerness wasn’t so much to be gentlemanly but just to get Sam to drop the topic. And he did, to Gerard’s enormous relief.

They got in line for the front desk, which doubled up as ticket sales and snacks.

“So what did you wanna see?” Gerard asked, as he usually did. He would rather the other person watch something they could enjoy; he wasn’t particularly bothered as he watched so many movies anyway. Besides, if it was that bad he could always sleep. Sam probably wouldn’t notice.

“Uhm… I don’t mind.”

 _Give me strength._ “Okay, how about… uh…” Gerard looked at the options, trying to find the most mainstream one. “What about the new Harry Potter film?”

“Seen it.”

Even though Gerard had also seen it, the way Sam said it pissed him off. _At least I’m fuckin trying…_ “Okay… What about Narnia?”

“Weird British trash.”

 _Okay, this must be god testing me._ He stalled himself for what he was about to say next, even though it pained him greatly. “Revenge of the Sith?”

“Don’t like Star Wars.”

Though he was very much relieved he wouldn’t have to relive another prequel, that statement alone made Gerard want to book it right there and then and never call him back. “Okay then, what about that new zombie film? Looks pretty good, right?”

The guy looked at him as though he’d grown a third eye. “You actually like that shit?”

Though he knew it wasn’t like he actually gave a shit about what this guy thought of him, the comment still hurt. Especially the way he’d said it. “Uh… Yeah, me and my little brother always watched horror films together growing up. Like how most kids would watch cartoons, I guess.” He tried to joke, but Sam was still staring at him with that judgemental look on his face.

“That’s fucked, why did your parents let you do that?”

 _Because they weren’t around, you prick._ “I dunno, guess they like them too.” He said, trying to keep his tone light. _We can get past this… It’s fine to disagree… Even if they’re belittling and making fun of you whilst doing so…_

“Okay then,” He tried again, wearily. His patience was beginning to wear thin. “What about Match Point?”

“What’s that?”

 _Okay, this is a good start._ _He hasn’t seen it and he doesn’t think it’s shit. Yet._ “It’s a Woody Allen film - d’you know him?”

“Sure.” _He doesn’t. God, and I thought my last date went badly._

“Well it’s about this guy who’s a tennis player and-“ He paused, realising it was almost impossible to describe the film aptly. “Uhm, it’s hard to describe but it’s brilliant. You have to see it.”

“Okay…” Sam shrugged, and that only irritated Gerard even more. “Let’s see that then.”

Gerard breathed a sigh of relief, though it was tainted by the fear that he wouldn’t like it and then it would be all his fault. _Whatever, whilst I’m here I might as well watch a film I actually like for once._

He was surprised by those thoughts. He rarely put his own enjoyment before that of others, even if they were pricks who didn’t deserve to be entertained. He supposed that must be some of Frank’s influence rubbing off. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.

They were getting in line when he suddenly heard someone say his name.

“Gerard?”

He turned round and his heart immediately sank. Fuck. “Frank?”

And it was indeed, Frank stood in front of him, trying to balance three bags of supermarket popcorn along with a coke in one hand and coffee in the other. He couldn’t help but stare a little as Frank stood there in a ratty Misfits t-shirt; hair a total mess as usual, looking as though he’d just stumbled out of bed. It was in complete contrast to the guy he was currently with - wearing a clean shirt (his mum has probably ironed it for him) and a nice-looking coat. The guy had even done his hair nicely. But it was Frank who drew his attention. He felt familiar - a welcome sensation on this fuck of a date. Well, that is, until he opened that stupid mouth of his.

“On a playdate?” He asked, that smug grin of his already forming. Gerard could practically see his brain formulating several different plans to make Gerard’s evening even more miserable than it already was.

“Uhm, sure.” Gerard said, gesturing awkwardly to Sam, who had now turned around too. “This is Sam.”

“Who’s the kid?” The guy asked, frowning at Frank. Though Gerard didn’t blame him - Frank was obviously a prick - he didn’t like the way he was looking at him. Like he was just some dumb kid who was beneath him. As far as Gerard was concerned, at this point nobody was beneath Sam in his estimation, not even Frank at his most childish.

“Uh, this is Frank.” Gerard said, awkwardly, struggling to avoid Frank’s gaze. “He’s my little brother’s best friend.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “Hold up, I’m a kid? I’ll have you know that I’m at least a decade older than you.”

Sam looked confused, not seeming to catch his wry tone. “So you’re thirty then?”

“Thirty five actually.”

Sam stared at Frank for a second before turning to Gerard. “What’s he talking about?”

 _Good grief._ Gerard couldn’t bring himself to look at Frank, because he knew he’d be smirking in that insufferable way he always did, and he wouldn’t be able to blame him. He was embarrassed beyond belief to be found on a date with this idiot. Frank was going to think he was some shallow, easy guy with no standards. _Is that so far from the truth?_ _What does it matter what he thinks anyway?_ But it did. It _did_ matter what Frank thought. Gerard found that he cared if Frank thought he was easy. He hated that he might think that.

“Just ignore him.”

“That’s awfully disrespectful to an elder.” Frank said, apparently affronted that Gerard wasn’t treating him with the respect his seventeen years demanded.

“Why are you here, Frank? Trying to make my life even more miserable?”

Frank smiled sweetly at him. “Just catching the latest horror movie with Mikey and my dad. Wanna join?” He was taunting him; he knew how much Gerard wanted to see it.

“No.” He replied, through gritted teeth. “Firstly I’m on a date-“ Sam nodded at this point, though Gerard wasn’t entirely sure he was following the conversation, he’d just heard the word “date” and decided his input was necessary. “And we’re going to see Match Point.”

The moment he saw Frank’s eyes light up Gerard regretted telling him that.

“Really? I’ve heard that’s very good.”

“So have I.” Sam said, unnecessarily. Gerard gave him a weak smile, which he returned with what seemed like pride.

At this point, Mikey appeared, though there was still no sign of Frank Sr. “Hey Gee, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I’m not.” Gerard said, through gritted teeth. “I’m on a date, _remember_?”

“Oh yeah, James was it?” Mikey turned to Sam, offering a smile.

“Sam.” The guy corrected him, looking a little affronted.

“Oh, of course. Nice to meet you. What’re you guys seeing?”

“Match Point.” Frank interrupted before Gerard could reply. “Was thinkin’ we might see it too, actually.”

“Oh really?” Mikey replied, turning to look at Frank. Gerard could see the warning look passing between them, which Frank clearly disregarded. “I thought you were desperate to see this new zombie film.”

“Eh, it can wait. Besides, I think dad would prefer this.”

“You don’t know anything about it!” Gerard protested, beginning to panic. _This can’t be happening. Mikey, do something!_ He tried to convey his urgency to Mikey with his eyes, but his brother remained blissfully ignorant to his plight, too busy scoping Sam out.

“Are you kidding? I wrote it!” Frank replied, earning a scowl.

“Really?” Sam asked, entirely genuine.

Frank started laughing, and Gerard shot him a cold glare before turning to Sam. “No, he’s just being a prick.”

Sam nodded, still seeming confused.

“Yeah I actually directed it.”

“Shut up, Frank.” Gerard said, through gritted teeth. “D’you wanna go get the tickets then?” He asked Sam, desperately. This had to be the worst day of his life. (Safe to say that Gerard was just slightly prone to melodrama.)

“Yeah, sure.”

Gerard shot Frank and Mikey a last glare - feeling bad when he saw Frank Sr come into view, as he couldn’t stick around to say hi - before quickly ushering Sam over to the nearest available till.

After ordering tickets and popcorn he hurried Sam to the theatre - quickening his pace when he saw Mikey and the others being served - hoping to lose them. The movie theatre was dark, so they wouldn’t be able to see where they were sat, right?

They found their seats near the back and Gerard practically fell into his seat, already exhausted and the evening had barely begun. The adverts were still on, the trailers not even having begun yet. The movie theatre wasn’t particularly crowded - a few couples here and there and one small group. It wasn’t exactly Goblet of Fire.

“What was his deal?” Sam asked, frowning a little. “He didn’t seem to like me much.”

“Frank doesn’t like anybody.” Gerard said, wearily. “Except Mikey. He especially doesn’t like me.”

“You think?”

“What, you think he does?”

“I dunno, all I’m saying is that he didn’t take his eyes off of you the entire time we were there. Even when we were getting tickets he was still lookin’ at you.”

“Probably tryna figure out different ways to make my life hell.” Gerard said, dismissively, though his words stuck with him. Why had Frank been looking at him? It can’t have been nicely though, that was for sure. _God, this can’t get any worse. Can’t get much worse than your date running into a hostile guy you know - he probably thinks Frank likes me now. God, what a mess._

“If you say so.” Sam shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like your type though.”

“Why’s that?”

“I dunno, he has one of those lip piercings and his hair is kinda weird and his clothes are… Not great.”

Gerard raised his eyebrows. “Now how d’you know my type, huh?” He asked, teasingly. Sam hadn’t been wrong in those statements, but as for whether or not he was attracted to that… May be a different case. He liked Frank’s hair, and the scruffy way he dressed. He even liked his lip ring. He sometimes imagined what it would be like to kiss him but quickly banished that from his thoughts. _You’re on a date, Gerard. With someone else._

“Well you like me, don’t you?” He said it as though it were obvious; as though he was doing such a good job of endearing himself. He was right about one thing, though - he and Frank were completely opposite. To be into one would be to be decidedly not into the other. _But I’m not into either… right? Okay, that might not be entirely true, but now is definitely not a good time to work that out._

“Says who?” He asked, smiling a little.

“Well you agreed to come today, didn’t you?” _God, his arrogance is insufferable. It’s somehow even worse that he has no idea how much of a prick he sounds right now. At least Frank is self aware when he’s being an asshole._

“Doesn’t mean I like you.” Gerard murmured, enjoying finally being able to flirt - his only (sort of) skill in the dating department. “Just means I thought you could be a bit of fun.” Seeing that Sam looked very much up of “a bit of fun” at that whispered remark, Gerard leaned forward to kiss him when he was interrupted by a noise from above his head.

He looked sharply up to find Frank loudly situating himself in the seat right above Gerard, followed by Mikey and Frank Sr. _I’m gonna kill that little shit when this is all over._

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, floored at just how irritating he was being.

“Watching the film.” Frank replied innocently.

“Why are you letting him do this?” He accused Mikey, who held up his hands in defence.

“I’m sorry! He arranged the seating, and we can’t go anywhere else because it’s getting full.” He gestured around them and he was right; the theatre was beginning to fill up around them.

“I can’t believe you guys.” He whispered, turning back to Sam, briefly catching Frank’s eye as he did so. Frank was watching him intently, looking less mischievous than he had done before, but nonetheless irritating. _Fine, he wants to do this, huh? Well, see if I give a shit._

Gerard turned back to Sam, cupped his face with one hand and kissed him, making sure to make it as long and slow as possible for Frank’s benefit.

As he broke away, he saw Frank out of the corner of his eye, but what surprised him was that he didn’t look irritated or amused. His face was totally blank. Gerard couldn’t read it at all, and that was odd.

 _Whatever_. The film was starting. Gerard turned to watch it, enjoying observing out of the corner of his eye how flustered Sam had become. He reached out and slowly ran his hand up and down his leg, enjoying even more hearing the way his breathing sped up a little. Sure, he didn’t like him one bit, but he was attractive enough and he was mostly liking the idea that he was pissing Frank off. He deserved it for trying to sabotage his date. (He’d actually salvaged it in a way, because right now Gerard was too pissed off at Frank to care about how annoying Sam was.)

Five minutes after the film had begun, Gerard felt movement from above his head and glanced up to find Frank had propped up his feet on the headrest.

“Put them down, asshole.” He whispered, batting one of his shoes away. _Why is he being such a dick tonight? Sure, he’s always a dick but he’s being way worse than usual!_

Eventually Gerard got up, whispering to Mikey to follow him, and left the theatre, murmuring to Sam he’d be back in a sec. He waited outside the door for Mikey, and when he came out Gerard immediately went off. “What the fuck, Mikey?”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t know he was gonna do this.”

“You better not have!” Gerard pointed an accusing finger at him.

“But it’s not like you’re into this guy anyway, right?” Mikey reasoned.

“Of course not, but that’s not the point! I thought we’d gotten better, why is he being like this again all of a sudden?”

Mikey sighed, shaking his head.

“What?”

“I think…”

“Spit it out.”

Mikey frowned a little, before looking up and answering. “He’s jealous.”

“Huh?”

“I dunno, but he hasn’t shut up about how much he hates that guy since we got here.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, he’s just met him.”

“Exactly.” Mikey said, slightly exasperatedly. “He doesn’t like that he’s with you.”

“Why? I don’t even like him.”

“Well you did just make out with him right in front of us. Thanks for that by the way.” Mikey pointed out, and Gerard had to admit he had a point.

“Yeah, because Frank was annoying me and I wanted to prove he couldn’t ruin my date.”

Mikey shook his head. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll make it up to you, I promise. But I’ll drag him away as soon as the movie ends, okay?”

Gerard sighed before nodding. “Thanks Mikes, I know it’s not your fault.” He reached out and patted his brother’s shoulder. “Well, it partially is on you for being friends with a dick but it’s too late now, huh?”

“Past the point of no return on that one.”

“At least we can go see that new film together now, huh?”

Mikey smiled a little. “Yeah, we can.”

And with that they went back inside to finish the film.

 

Frank really hadn’t paid much attention to the film, so by the time it was over he hadn’t had much of a clue how everything had transpired. He figured he’d just rent it when it came out on dvd and watch it again. No, his mind was occupied with thinking about that idiot sat in front of him, and wondering why the hell Gerard was dating him. Why was someone as interesting and attractive as Gerard with someone as dull as that? How long had they been seeing each other and why had he never mentioned anything? This couldn’t be a first date, right? Surely not from the way Gerard was acting around him.

He caught sight of Gerard’s hand on his leg several times throughout the film - he even kissed him a few times, too. Sometimes on the lips and sometimes on the neck. Frank knew he shouldn’t watch but he couldn’t help it. He also couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like to be in that guy’s place…

Frank shook his head, trying to focus on the film as the credits began to roll. _It’s finished, huh?_

Mikey got up, and Frank followed him, forcing himself not to look at Gerard or his date. He’d forgotten the guy’s name and didn’t care to remember it.

They got out of the theatre and Mikey and Frank Sr immediately began discussing the film, but Frank couldn’t join in. He hadn’t the faintest clue what they were on about.

“Shall we go see the old man?” Mikey asked, to which Frank Sr nodded, enthusiastically.

“I haven’t seen him in what feels like ages!”

“Yeah, alright…” Frank muttered, glancing back to see Gerard and that other guy making their way down. “Lemme just go to the bathroom first.”

After he’s been, he went over to the sink to wash his hands. A few moments later there was the sound of a lock clicking and one of the cubicle doors opened to reveal the guy from earlier. He walked over to the sink a few taps down from Frank and inspected his reflection in the mirror, completely ignoring Frank.

Frank thought he could see a couple of faint marks on his neck and fought to keep his expression neutral. He really hated him.

“Havin’ fun?” He asked, not bothering to keep the dryness out of his voice. He knew the guy wouldn’t pick up on it.

“Yeah.” He replied, “I am.”

“Shame he doesn’t seem to be.” Frank said, breezily, rubbing soap onto his hands.

“What makes you think that?” The other guy asked, edgily. Obviously he was offended only now that Frank had said something so clearly insulting. He was the kind of person who needed everything spelt out.

Frank shrugged. “He looks bored.” He wasn’t lying, Gerard _did_ look bored, though he couldn’t tell if he genuinely was. He didn’t blame him if he was, though.

“What’s your deal?” The other guy asked, seeming pissed off.

“What do you mean?”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“ _What_?” Frank laughed, grabbing a paper towel to dry his hands with. “Where’d you get that from?”

“You won’t stop looking at him, and you’ve already decided you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, I just have a strong urge to punch you.” Frank corrected him, choosing to bypass his initial statement. “But I’m practising restraint, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m due to have a drink with Death.”

The guy just stared at him as Frank walked out. He knew he was being petty, but for some reason he couldn’t help it. He walked past Gerard on the way out, who tried to talk to him, but Frank ignored him, grabbing his dad’s arm and leading him out of the cinema. He couldn’t wait to get drunk and forget all of this mess.

 

Gerard said goodbye to Sam at his doorstep. He hadn’t touched him since the movie had finished and definitely hadn’t felt compelled to. He’d even managed to dodge any (incredibly un-subtle) advances Sam had tried to make on the way back with practised ease. He was fine, but Gerard just wasn’t attracted to him in the slightest - less so after he’d expressed his uninspired opinions on the film “it was boring and unrealistic”, of which Gerard couldn’t disagree with more.

“Sorry about Frank earlier again.” He apologised as they hung around outside the door, Gerard trying his best to get rid of him. “I don’t know what got into him.”

“Not very nice, that kid.” Sam remarked, and that pissed Gerard off. _What the fuck do you know about him?_ Even after Frank had been such a dick he was still getting riled up by Sam insulting him. Apparently Gerard was the only one who was allowed to criticise him.

“He is nice. He just has difficulty showing it.”

“Hm.” Sam gave him an unconvinced look. “He’s totally into you, though.”

“Would you stop saying that?” Gerard asked, shifting uncomfortably. That was the third time he’d brought it up after leaving the movie theatre.

Sam shrugged. “Fine. So…”

“Goodnight.” Gerard leaned forward and kissed his cheek very briefly, giving him a weary smile. “It was nice.”

Sam’s face fell a little, clearly realising he wasn’t about to be invited in. “Yeah, thanks.” Gerard struggled to fight off the scorn that was beginning to creep into his expression. _I’m not that easy, you stupid bastard._ Not only was he decidedly not attracted to Sam’s dull personality, he also was very much not there for the way he was talking about Frank, either. Not that that should matter, anyway. “Goodnight then.”

“See you.” Gerard waved, his smile quickly dissipating as Sam turned and began to leave; even his body language screaming disappointment. _What a disaster._

After getting to know the guy a bit better on the way back, he thought perhaps Frank had done him a favour in ruining the date so he had a viable excuse not to call back. Not that he wasn’t still pissed off with him, because he very much was. He was utterly livid.

 

Several beers and too many vodka shots later, Frank was stumbling home with Mikey, having left Frank Sr and the old man to further catch up. They were old friends, after all. They were going back to Mikey’s place, because Frank’s place was a bit further and nobody trusted him to get back on his own - especially not round that part of town at this time. Knowing Frank he’d get in a fight and get himself stabbed or shot.

They got inside the house with minimal difficulty - it was 1am, so Mikey’s parents were fast asleep, thinking their son was staying over at Frank’s place as he’d initially told them. (He hadn’t been lying; that had been the initial plan, but Death had interfered, as usual.) Mikey was the least fucked out of the two of them, having only stuck to beer, and so was arranging blankets and pillows on the sofa for Frank to sleep. His room was far too small for the two of them.

They played Mario Kart for a while - Frank even worse than usual given how he could hardly sit up properly - before Mikey remembered he had to go into work early tomorrow and decided to sleep. He went upstairs - leaving Frank sat on the couch - returning with pyjamas. They said goodnight and Mikey went back upstairs to sleep, leaving Frank to get changed into one of Gerard’s old t-shirts and some tracksuit bottoms. Frank, still being pretty wasted, decided that sleep was for the weak (nothing new there, then) and dug in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes, heading outside to smoke and attempt to gather his incredibly jumbled thoughts.

He couldn’t really think particularly coherently at that point - all that was going through his head was Gerard kissing that guy, leaving marks on his neck. He couldn’t get it out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. _Fuck. He’s so hot, why is he so hot? That stupid motherfucker… He’s so kind. Why was I such a pain in the ass? He probably hates me now._ His thoughts continued to race between those different ideas until they settled on a new - and decidedly unwelcome - one. _He’s probably with that guy right now._

Frank groaned and leaned back so he was lying in the grass, putting out his cigarette in the soil next to him and reaching for another.

_Yeah, he probably is._

 

Gerard, who was definitely not with that guy right now, woke up from a nightmare, panting heavily.

“Wait…” he muttered, looking around, completely dazed. “Frank…” He sat up in bed, massaging his forehead and slowly coming back to the real world. _It was just a nightmare. He’s fine. He’s not dead, it’s just in your head._

Groaning, he switched on the light. _Another nightmare, great._ This had become a regular occurrence over the last year, having several dreams about people dying - mostly Mikey. But he’d never had a dream like that about Frank. Well, until now.

He couldn’t quite remember how he’d died in his dream, for it was already beginning to fade from his memory, but he knew he’d died. It hurt just thinking about, and now he couldn’t get the thought out of his head; the possibility that just maybe he was dead.

“Fuck.” He groaned, reaching for his phone but finding it to be out of battery. _Good. This is stupid, you don’t need to call him. Like he’d pick up at this time anyway._ But even as he was thinking these thoughts he found himself getting up out of bed and heading up the stairs to use the landline.

But upon getting upstairs, he discovered he didn’t need to. At first he’d thought Mikey had come home and passed out in the garden - he’d been known to do so after drinking at the diner, as he’d inevitably done after leaving the cinema. He headed into the garden to wake him up and help him in - and ask if he knew where Frank was and if he was okay - but he found the figure not to be Mikey at all but Frank himself.

He crouched down to confirm his suspicions. “Frank?” He couldn’t see him well in the dark, but it was definitely him.

A very out of it Frank sat up and looked up at him. “Gee?” His voice was slurred and not quite like normal. _Yep, he’s wasted._

Overcome with an overwhelming sense of relief - that really made no sense, and he could only really attribute to a severe lack of sleep and generally emotional unstable state of mind - Gerard pulled him into a tight hug, fighting off tears. “God, you’re okay… You’re okay…”

“Huh? What’s goin’ on? Course I’m okay?” Frank asked, thoroughly confused.

“I had a dream…” Gerard murmured, hugging him tighter. “You… You were there and-“

“Shh, it’s okay.” Frank said, a little too loudly. One of his hands patted Gerard’s back in a clumsy, drunken attempt to console him. “I ain’t dead. Not yet.”

Gerard finally pulled away, surveying Frank. Now the relief was wearing off he was pissed off all over again. “What the fuck was wrong with you earlier?”

Frank tilted his head to one side, pouting his lips a little in thought.

“No.” Gerard interjected, immediately. “Nuh uh. Don’t you dare try that shit with me, I’m trying to be pissed off with you here.”

Frank’s face broke into a smile and fuck that’s even cuter. “I’m sorryyyy.” He stretched out the syllable far too long and it was hard to process how cute he was being right now. “I’m sorry I ruined your date with the stupid twenty year old fancy adult.”

“Why, though? It was like you set out to make my evening hell. What did I do to deserve that, huh?”

Frank was staring and he genuinely seemed apologetic. “I know… Just… What’s so great about that guy?”

Gerard hesitated, taken aback and unsure how to respond because there was nothing that was so great about that guy. “I don’t know.” He finally replied, honestly.

“Is it because he’s all old and shit?”

“What? No.” Gerard replied, frowning in confusion. _What’s he getting at?_

“Am I just… Am I just a kid to you?” He finished, stumbling over the rest of his words. Gerard couldn’t quite believe the irony of it - smoking whilst whining about being seen as a kid.

“No, of course not. Where’d you even get that idea?” Gerard was totally confused. Sure, he’d be turning twenty in a couple of weeks, but it wasn’t _that_ big of a gap.

“That guy called me a _kid_ , can you believe that?” Frank mumbled, reaching out and playing with a loose strand of Gerard’s hair.

“Unbelievable.” Gerard replied, dryly, smiling a little. He couldn’t help it; his anger was dissipating with alarming rapidness. It was so hard to stay pissed off at Frank when he was being like this. “You’re cute.” He said, impulsively, unable to stop himself. He _was_ cute. It was only making matters worse that he was wearing Gerard’s old t-shirt, which was too big for him.

“Mm, you’re cute.” Frank replied, though it wasn’t clear whether the words were directed toward Gerard or if he was simply repeating what he’d just heard. “Did you think he was cute, then?”

“Who, Sam?” Gerard asked, taking the cigarette out of Frank’s grip and taking a drag himself. Frank didn’t seem to mind, just nodding in response. “Nah, he wasn’t cute.”

Frank frowned, his eyes on Gerard’s lips as he exhaled smoke. “Why’d you kiss him like that, then?”

Gerard sighed a little, handing him back his cigarette and leaning his head back against the grass, smiling a little when Frank copied him, his face turned in Gerard’s direction, listening intently. Or, as intently as a heavily intoxicated person was capable of. “I don’t know, Frankie… I’m stupid like that.” He rolled his eyes when Frank hummed his agreement. “And I guess I was tryna prove a point to you.”

“Prove what?” Frank asked, and it was a good question. One that Gerard didn’t know the answer to.

“I don’t know…”

“Do you kiss a lotta people like that?”

Gerard thought for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I guess I do. Quite a few, anyway. More than you, I’m sure. Have you even kissed anyone before?”

Frank shook his head. “Can’t.” He mumbled.

“Oh yeah, I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Frank shrugged indifferently, reaching forward and running his fingers through Gerard’s hair again. “I like your hair.” He said, decisively and Gerard laughed at the certainty in his voice.

“I like yours too, Frankie.” He liked it when Frank played with his hair. His touch was incredibly gentle, as though handling something delicate. It wasn’t often people treated him like that.

“Do you have sex with guys like that?” Frank asked bluntly, and Gerard raised a curious eyebrow.

“Sometimes.” Gerard shrugged, wondering why he was asking but pretty sure it was probably something to do with vodka. “I’m not _that_ easy though.” He added, defensively.

“I know, I know.” Frank said, waving his hand dismissively. “You’re not easy or we would’ve fucked by now.”

Gerard laughed a little at the certainty of his words, reaching forward and smoothing down some of Frank’s hair. “Really, now?”

“Mm.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Frankie.”

Frank frowned, looking upset at this answer. “Why not?”

“You can’t touch people remember, idiot.” Gerard reminded him, aware that that was an easy answer. “Anyway, you should only do it when you’re ready.”

“I’m not ready now?”

Gerard looked slowly over at him, resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss him there and then. He had no idea where this urge was coming from and what it meant, he just knew that he couldn’t do that to Frank - not just because he couldn’t touch people. “Trust me, Frankie, you’re not.”

“Okay…” Frank seemed to accept this, his intoxicated mind moving on from the topic with enviable speed. Gerard was jealous. He’d be constantly thinking about this conversation for the next week at least.

Gerard was quiet for a few moments, before saying quietly, “I’m really glad you’re not dead.”

“Mm, me too.” Frank agreed, and Gerard laughed again. _He’s really fucking cute._

“You’re cute.” He said, again, because his brain seemed to feel the need to express it once more.

“You said that already.” Frank murmured, putting out his cigarette.

“Yeah, I know. You wanna go in now, Frankie?”

“No.” Frank shook his head, putting his palms beneath his head. “I wanna stay out here… Wanna stay here with you.”

“Okay.” Gerard agreed, laying his head back down again and turning to look and Frank. There was something in his eyes that just… wasn’t all there. Frank never seemed to be all there. Not completely. “Sometimes I feel like you’re somewhere completely different.” He murmured, not sure what he was saying or what he was expecting to hear back.

Frank didn’t say anything, but his eyes began to look a little sad. Gerard didn’t like that.

“It’s just-“ He broke off, trying to express his feelings. He’d always been awful at that. “It’s like you’re from some other world.”

“Yeah.” Frank said, to Gerard’s surprise. “I don’t usually hang around living people this much.” What is he saying? Gerard put it down to drunken nonsense, but it unsettled him even so. “But I wanna be with you, right here.” He pushed a finger into the grass to illustrate his point. “I wanna stay with you.” He repeated, apparently unaware he was making very little sense.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanna stay here with you and live.”

“Me too.” Gerard agreed. However, he was afraid Frank was going to get cold and he wanted to give him some water and get him to bed so he didn’t have a major hangover the next day. “But we should go inside, okay?”

Frank frowned at this, visibly disappointed. “Wanna be with you…”

Gerard felt a twinge in his heart, looking over at Frank. _He’s a drunk teenager. And a dumbass one at that. Keep that in mind, Gerard._ “I’m not gonna leave you, we’re just goin’ inside, ‘kay?”

“Fine.” Frank finally agreed, allowing Gerard to help him up and into the kitchen where he accepted a glass of water.

“Okay, you’re sleeping on the couch, yeah?” Gerard asked and Frank nodded, allowing himself to be lead over to the couch. “Alright, you sleepy now?”

“Mm.”

“Okay, d’you need me to stay with you and make sure you don’t throw up? D’you feel sick?”

Frank shook his head. “Don’t throw up…” He murmured. If that was true then Gerard was very jealous.

“Okay, so I can go downstairs, yeah? You’re gonna be okay up here?”

“Mm.”

“Alright.” But Gerard remained sat on the floor in front of him, even as he closed his eyes and quickly drifted asleep. Until he was finally certain he wasn’t going to be sick, he stayed there for a while before finally getting up and going downstairs to think about that interaction for the next six hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the nice words and thanks for sticking around ! <3 (i included the slow burn tag for a reason lol)


	12. In Which the Gang Go to Walmart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death goes all Grim Reaper on Frank and Gerard is sick of watching Kill Bill.

“Hey Mikey.” Gerard knocked on his brother’s door, waiting for him to reply. They had an unspoken rule against barging into each other’s rooms… For several reasons which don’t need to be listed.

“Yeah?” He called back and Gerard entered. Mikey was laying on his bed, reading a comic that Gerard had lent him a few days ago. “What’s up? Frankie awake yet?”

“Yeah, when I got up he was gone. I thought he might be in here but I guess he left.”

“Like that huh?” Mikey didn’t seem particularly interested, continuing to flick through the pages. “That’s alright, he probably wanted to go see his dad. I’m sure he wasn’t tryna be rude or anything.” Mikey was used to Frank coming and going, since he practically lived with the Way household half the time anyway.

“No, he’s just a natural.” Gerard muttered, and Mikey smirked. “Actually…”

“Spit it out.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

Mikey looked up, raising his eyebrows. “What, Frankie?”

“Yeah. Well. Kinda.”

Mikey groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’re into him.”

“What? No! Of course not.” _That might be a bit of a lie but hey, not the time._ “No, I just-“ He paused, going over to sit beside Mikey on his bed.

Mikey put down his comic, frowning a little. “Serious, huh?”

“The other day I had to pick Frank up from the cemetery at like two in the morning.”

Now Mikey looked concerned. “Huh? Why?”

“He was visiting your friend, Cara.”

“Oh.” Mikey looked down and Gerard’s heart sank. After two years he still hadn’t been able to get Mikey to really open up about her death. Well, not about it as such, more how he felt about it. He was repressed, he got that. But you had to talk about stuff, even if it hurt.

“Mikes, we haven’t talked about this since the funeral. That was two years ago.”

“I’m aware.”

“I’ve not mentioned it too much because I know it makes you upset to talk about but you can’t keep this stuff inside. It’s not good for you.”

Mikey was silent for a few moments before he asked, slowly, “How was she? Did… Did he say?” His voice was quiet and strained.

“He said she was pissed off at him.” Gerard said with a small smile. “Apparently she thinks he doesn’t live in the real world enough.” _They’re both crazy, pretending to talk to dead people, but that’s okay. If it makes them feel better I guess._ Gerard could hardly judge. He talked to his grandma all the time, when nobody was around.

“She was always so smart.” Mikey murmured softly, and Gerard put an arm around him. “She knew all the answers in tests. I used to cheat off of her all the time, and she’d call me an idiot but she’d let me do it anyway.”

“See? It’s good to talk about her, right?” He gently rubbed Mikey’s shoulder, though his brother didn’t respond. “She loved you, didn’t she?”

“Yeah…”

“Did she ever ask you out?”

“Yeah.”

“But you didn’t like her back.”

“Not… Not like that.” He sounded almost angry.

“Mikey, it’s okay that you didn’t like her back. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It’s not something you can help.”

“It could’ve made her happy, but I couldn’t do that to Frank…”

“Huh?”

“Frank was totally in love with her. Hence why he went to visit her at two in the morning.” Mikey explained, laughing a little, but without mirth.

 _Oh_. Things were starting to make more sense.

“I think he’s only recently gotten over her, to be honest.”

 _Oh_. Things were starting to make a lot more sense. “Does he know that she liked you?”

“Yeah.”

“But it didn’t bring you guys apart?”

Mikey shook his head. “No. If anything it made us closer. He’s… He’s got such a good heart. He’s always had such a good heart. I’ve been trying to tell you this for years. He’s a really good friend.” Gerard felt like someone had punched him in the face. His entire outlook of Frank had been changing after the last few weeks but this was definitely the sharpest turn yet. “And I had to ruin it.”

Gerard looked up in surprise. “How’s that?”

“I was such a dick around the time of the funeral and for a bit after that. I was only thinking about myself and… feeling guilty I guess, for how I’d treated her. And I just pushed him away so much if I were him I’d have given up. But he never gave up on me. Not once. No matter how much he’d act out at school and get in trouble or get into fights he would always come back to me and I treated him like shit.”

“I had no idea…” Gerard murmured, feeling even worse for his brother. Not only had his friend died but he’d been so consumed with guilt that he was pushing the other one away when he needed him the most. “But what happened to make you guys so close again?”

Mikey shrugged a little. “Things escalated and then exploded-“

“The Frank way.”

Mikey laughed and nodded. “The Frank way. And then things went totally back to normal and we’re closer than ever.”

“But you still don’t talk about Cara.”

Mikey didn’t reply, which was a response in itself.

“You should. Seriously, Mikey. He’s still hurting, just as much as I know you are. I’m always here to talk, but think about Frank. He’s the only person in the world right now who understands _exactly_ what you’re feeling. Talk to him.”

Mikey started at Gerard for a little while before nodding. “Okay.”

“Deal?” Gerard held out his pinky and Mikey rolled his eyes before shaking it with his own.

“Deal.”

“Right, I’m off to work.”

“Have fun counting paper clips.” Mikey said, and Gerard gave him the finger before turning to leave. “Thanks Gee!” Mikey called after him. “Really.”

“Anytime bro. Really.”

 

Frank was wiping down tables in the diner when Mikey Way came to sit at one, holding a milkshake in each hand. “Lunch break?”

“It’s 10.30pm, Mikes.” They’d closed half an hour ago.

“Uhh, night break?”

Frank rolled his eyes, putting down the rag and sitting down opposite him. “Sure, why not? I’m down with getting paid to drink milkshakes.”

“I’m docking your pay!” Death called from the corner of the room, where he was putting on his hat and getting ready to head out.

“Dock my pay and I’ll spit in every cup of coffee I make you.” Frank called back.

“Like you don’t do that anyway.” Death mumbled, leaving without a goodbye.

“Cheery fellow.”

“Sarcastically speaking of cheery fellows” Mikey began, “Is that Gerard’s hoodie?”

Frank looked down and cringed. “Nice segue, and yes, I believe it is.”

“Number one: thanks, and number two: what the fuck?”

“He gave it to me the other day and I, uh, forgot to give it back.”

“So you’re wearing it.” Mikey said, raising an eyebrow.

“In case I see him!” Frank protested, not wanting to admit that he was keeping it because it was comfy and warm and it smelled nice.

“Why’d he even give it to you anyway?”

Frank hesitated, not wanting to admit the predicament he’d been it. “He was picking me up from somewhere and I was cold…”

“The cemetery?”

Frank looked up in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“Gerard told me he picked you up from there at two in the morning. Why the hell were you down there so late?”

Frank shrugged. “I’d promised her I’d see her but I got caught up with something else and it was super late by the time I managed to get there.”

“He said you said she was pissed off at you.”

Frank smiled a little, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Apparently I talk to her too much or some shit.”

“Are you gonna talk to her less then?”

Frank grinned. “Not a chance.”

Mikey rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of relief in them. Frank guessed he was glad he wasn’t about to lose his last contact to her. “You’ve always been awful at taking advice.”

Frank shrugged. “I always know best.”

“Yeah, right.” Mikey shook his head. “I miss her.”

“Me too.” Frank said, quietly. Mikey raised a questioning eyebrow. “Even if I can see her from time to time, she’s still… Not here. Y’know? She’s not sat here with us right now, like she should be. I can’t even touch her.” He whispered, clutching his glass a little tighter.

He looked up and was surprised to find Mikey was looking at him sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Frankie.” Before Frank could open his mouth to ask what for, he continued. “I’m so, so sorry…”

Frank gaped at him. Mikey Way was fighting back tears. Had the world gone mad?

“Hey, Mikes, what’s wrong? Why’re you sorry?”

“I just realised,” Mikey mumbled, wiping his eyes furiously with his sleeve. “How two years ago if you’d said that, I’d have hated you. Because you can see her and I can’t…”

“Mikey-“

“Wait. I don’t. Not now. I just realised that maybe… you got the worse end of the bargain.”

“Huh?” Frank frowned, hating how he was sat opposite him instead of next to him. He really wanted to hug his friend.

“In some ways, I think maybe seeing her and knowing she’s not really there is probably worse than not seeing her at all… And I hate how I treated you back then. I hate it so much. I was such an idiot.”

“Mikey…” Frank got up and walked round behind his friend, hugging him from behind. Now their heights were more matched, tragically. “It’s fine. Seriously. It was too much to deal with, I get that. I don’t hold it against you. If I were you I’d probably be mad about it too.”

Mikey shook his head. “You wouldn’t. You’re too nice.”

“Now that’s something I’ve never heard before.” Frank said, laughing.

Mikey laughed too and Frank felt things returning to normal. Once in a while they had to completely shatter, but once you realised that you couldn’t just jam the shards back together, things would fall into place on their own. That didn’t seem to be something Gerard had learned yet, Frank thought, thinking about the mess his life was currently in.

That was how he’d become friends with Mikey again, after all. They’d slipped back into it naturally, the way you fall back into playing a song you learned a long time ago. You throw yourself into it, and just try to fill in the blanks.

 

The following day, it was midnight and Frank was at the diner, dead bored. (Pun very much intentional.)

Death was doing his taxes and the man upstairs didn’t want to play with him, so here he was, formatting the new menu because he had nothing else to do.

“I’m boreddddd.” He whined, for the fifth time in the last three minutes.

“Must you be such a child? I’m trying to do adult stuff here.”

“Pfft, you’re more childish than I am.” Frank scowled over at him, surreptitiously adding a $50 bowl of vanilla ice cream to the menu and hitting print. He liked to add stupidly expensive stuff to the menu and see if anyone ordered it. Their expression when they found out it was the same as the $6 version always brightened his day.

“That so?” Death replied, clearly not paying attention otherwise he would’ve come over to kick his ass by now. “Just ask Mikey to come hang out.”

“Yeah, but there’ll still be nothing to do!”

“Well fucking find something then!” Death slammed down his calculator and got up. “Most people sleep at midnight, not whine about being bored. Now get out before I lose my patience and take your soul out of spite.”

“Fine! I’m going! Jesus. No need to go all Grim Reaper on me.” Frank sulked, getting up and storming out of the diner over to his shitty car. Well, it was technically his dad’s. And his grandfather’s. The three of them kind of shared it, but his dad wasn’t using it and his grandfather hadn’t used it in at least twenty years.

He got in and started driving to the Way household, forming an idea as he did so.

 

Gerard was sat drawing at the dining table, the rest of his family all gathered round the television, watching the end of Kill Bill. It was the third time they’d watched it in this week alone and as much as Gerard loved it, it was beginning to drive him slightly insane.

He was about to fill in an eye when a loud noise made him jump out of his skin, causing him to draw a big blue line all across the paper.

“Fuck!”

“Language, Gerard.” His mum called half-heartedly, still fixated on the television, as were the other two. Apparently none of them seemed to care that there was a long, sustained beeping noise rattling the house.

“Am I the only one who hears that?” Gerard yelled above it and Mikey shrugged.

“It’s just Frank. He beeps the horn like that when he wants me to come out.”

Gerard wasn’t even surprised. “Well aren’t you gonna go tell him to shut up?”

“After this finishes. It’s got like a minute to go.”

“And I’m supposed to listen to this for another minute?” Gerard yelled.

“Just go tell him yourself then.”

“Fine!” Gerard slammed down his pen, storming out of the room just a little melodramatically. _This fucker’s gonna get it for ruining my drawing._

Upon opening the front door he was greeted with the sight of Frank sweetly attempting to calm down an old lady who was yelling at him, likely for the loud, intrusive noise coming from his car.

“Frank!” He shouted, and the lady walked off, looking exasperated. “The fuck is wrong with you? You’ve probably woken up the whole damn neighbourhood!”

Frank shrugged, taking his hand off the horn. “You’re out, aren’t you? Well, _a_ Way brother’s out. I was aiming for Mikey but you’ll do. Get in.”

“Mikey’s coming.” Gerard said, trying to convey how unimpressed he was with his expression. “Wherever you’re going I’m not coming-“

He was interrupted by Mikey running out the door with his bag. “Hey Frank!”

“What’re you so excited about?” Gerard grumbled.

“Walmart!” Mikey just said, as though that were an answer.

Gerard put the pieces together fairly easily. “You’re going to Walmart.”

“Correct.” Frank said, smiling cheerfully.

“At midnight.”

“Also correct.”

“And I’m coming why?”

“Because you have nothing better to do.”

“I was drawing.”

“ _Was_.”

“Because your obnoxious beeping ruined my drawing!”

“I would ask how… But I don’t care. Are you coming or not?”

“... Let me get my shoes.”

 

Ten minutes later, Frank was giddily running around the toy department, throwing lightsabers into his trolley. Mikey was off looking for a tent - he hadn’t specified as to why and nobody had bothered to ask - and Gerard was very unenthusiastically trudging along behind Frank.

“Why are you such a child?” He grumbled, bending down to pick up a little Darth Vader figurine he’d knocked off of the shelf.

“Why are you so boring?” Frank retorted, sticking out his tongue.

Gerard rolled his eyes. “And since when did you have the money for all this?”

“Got my bonus today.” Frank replied, picking up a Chewbacca mask and inspecting it. “Wonder if I could wear this to school…?”

“Firstly no.” Gerard walked over to him and ripped the mask out of his hands, putting back. “Secondly, why? The month has only just begun.”

Frank shrugged. “My boss is weird. He pays me whenever he wants. Always has.”

“Don’t you have better things to spend your money on?”

Frank considered this for a moment before shaking his head. “Nope.”

“How long have you been working there?” Gerard asked, curiously, jogging to catch up with Frank, who had moved onto another section.

“A while.” Frank replied, not entirely paying attention. “Like… Five years?”

Gerard raised his eyebrows. “That sounds, uhm, illegal.”

Frank shrugged. “My boss is kinda above the law.”

“What is he, a mobster?” Gerard joked, snatching a human-size teddy bear away from him.

“Something like that.” Frank replied, vaguely, staring wistfully at the teddy bear. “Are you sure I can’t have him? We just built a connection, I felt it.”

“You’re a weirdo.” Gerard announced, pushing him away from the toy section.

“Pfft, like you’re one to judge.”

_He has me there._

“Where did Mikey go?” Gerard suddenly remembered his brother, looking around for him.

“Uhh, not a clue. Shall we go find him and scare him with the Chewbacca mask?” Frank took it out of the trolley, looking way too excited at the prospect.

Gerard stared at him, shaking his head. “When did you take that back?”

“Never mind that.” Frank said, dismissively, climbing into the trolley.

“Uhm, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I don’t know, but I know what the fuck you’re doing.”

“Oh yeah? What the fuck am I doing?” Gerard asked, hating that he was indulging the idiot. Frank was being especially childish today and though it was getting on his nerves it was also kinda sorta endearing. Not that he’d ever admit that in a billion light years.

“Pushing me in the trolley.” Frank said, as though it were obvious.

“Nuh uh. Nope.” Gerard shook his head adamantly.

Roughly thirty seconds later Frank was being wheeled along the aisle by a very reluctant, grumbling Gerard, grabbing random items as they went past, half of which Gerard was chucking back onto the shelves. When they finally found Mikey he was weighing up the options of one tent over the other. Frank told him to get the one that’d fit the three of them and Gerard began wheeling Frank over to the till, no clue why he was still obliging his stupid request but doing it anyway.

 

Somehow they managed to stuff all of Frank’s new useless things - in addition to Mikey’s useless tent - in the boot of Frank’s shitty car and make it home. Frank dropped the Way brothers off and drove home, feeling strangely empty. He liked being around them. It was like a switch turned off the complicated part of his brain whenever he was with them, but when they were gone it turned back on, but even more intensely than before.

Now all he could think about was death and how he could be free of it. Whether he even _wanted_ to be free of it. Cara was right - he wanted to be normal, but he couldn’t have it both ways. He _literally_ couldn’t right now, considering that his next predicted death was in what, fifty odd years. He wasn’t that patient. But then again, did he really want to be free of it if it meant leaving Cara? Perhaps she’d been right, though. Perhaps it would be better to let her go. He’d already changed a lot in the two years following her death, and he hated the idea of growing up whilst she stayed in that school uniform - always a fifteen year old girl. Eternally the fifteen year old girl he’d had a crush on as a fifteen year old boy. It seemed wrong, the idea that he’d one day get a job, get married; do all the expected things of an adult whilst she stayed there, stuck as a child forever.

 _Oh god, shut up. It’s not like you’re ever gonna get a normal job anyway, let alone get married._ He parked outside his apartment, running his hands down his face. _Just fucking chill for once in your life._

And he did, for a whole two minutes. That is, until he went looking for his notebook and discovered something which immediately sent him into panic mode.

It wasn’t there.

 

Gerard was actually trying to get some sleep - for once - when Mikey came charging into his room with uncharacteristic urgency.

“Hey, what did we agree about knocking?” He groaned, forcing himself to sit up and squinting when Mikey flicked on the light.

“Sorry, but this is important.”

“What? Slow down and tell me what’s wrong.” Gerard felt himself waking up a little more from the sheer panic in his brother’s tone.

“Have you seen the notebook?”

“Uhh, once. Made me cry a shit ton. Why the fuck are you asking me now-“

“Not the film, idiot! Frank’s notebook!”

“Huh?” That got his attention.

“It’s missing. Have you seen it?”

Gerard shook his head. “No, I wish I had… Is he freaking out?”

Mikey nodded. “He just called me all frantic saying he didn’t have it.”

“Okay, okay. Tell him to chill out and just look for it tomorrow. It’s gonna be there somewhere.”

“That’s the problem.” Mikey sighed, coming over to sit on his bed. “He seems to think he never put it back in his bag when he took it out at lunch, which would mean-“

“He left it at school.” Gerard finished, unease beginning to creep in. “Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.” Mikey agreed, miserably. “That notebook’s really important, Gee.”

“What’s in it? Is he gonna get the shit bullied out of him for it?”

Mikey hesitated for a moment before answering slowly. “Anyone who read it would mostly be confused and then probably a little creeped out… But it has a lock so hopefully nobody should read it. The problem is that he really needs it. It’s super important.”

“Okay, okay.” Gerard massaged his forehead, wishing he knew what was really going on. He had a feeling his knowledge didn’t even scratch the surface and that was a little frightening. “Either way, we’ll find it at school. Lost property or somethin’. Tell him to calm down.”

“You tell him.” Mikey tossed his phone at Gerard, getting up to leave. “I’ve been trying to calm him down for the last twenty minutes and it hasn’t done shit. Your turn now.” And with that he left his confused older brother to deal with Frank.

 

When he saw it was Mikey again, Frank let the phone ring for a bit, not wanting to talk. He’d turned his entire room upside down - meaning it was kind of the right way up now, considering it had been pretty upside down to begin with - but nothing. No sign of it anywhere. It was at school. It had to be.

The phone started ringing again and Frank sighed, before remembering that Mikey had promised to ask Gerard if he’d seen it. Eager to know if he’d seen it, Frank quickly grabbed the phone, but was surprised to find it wasn’t Mikey at all.

“Hey Frank.” His voice was groggy as though he’d just been woken up. He’d gotten up at 2am just to talk to him. Frank let his mind wander a bit, wondering what he looked like right now. Was his hair all messy? Was he wearing that old, faded Star Wars shirt he’d been wearing to sleep in the other day? _Why do you care, Frank? Now isn’t the time…_

“Gerard?”

“Yeah, Mikey threw the phone at me and told me to get you to chill out, so… Here I am.”

“Wow, Mikey sure doesn’t know me.” Frank said, lying back on his rug and staring up at the ceiling. “Why the hell would it calm me down talking to you?”

Frank could practically hear Gerard rolling his eyes. “You want me to hang up?” _No_.

“Well you’re here now.” He said, as casually as possible.

“Listen Frank, I have no clue what’s in that notebook of yours, but Mikey told me you have a lock on it, right?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t make it any less lost.” He mumbled.

“I know, I know.” Gerard said, patiently. Frank felt a rush of gratefulness for his calmness, it was starting to affect him a bit. Mikey was usually the calmest of all of them, but he knew as well as Frank did how important this was, whereas Gerard couldn’t begin to imagine. “But it’s one less thing to worry about. First thing on Monday we’ll go to lost property and see if it’s been handed in, alright? If not then we can retrace your footsteps and…”

Gerard was still talking but Frank stopped listening to the words themselves and just shut his eyes, feeling the sound of his voice wash over him. He had a nice voice. Frank really thought he could listen to him talk about nothing for hours.

“Frank? You there?” Frank was snapped out of his reverie by Gerard’s voice, a little sharper now.

“Yeah I’m here.”

“Lost you for a bit there, huh?” Gerard asked, amusement in his voice.

“Mm.”

“Where are you?”

“On the floor.”

“Why?”

“Lookin’ for a pot of fuckin’ gold, why’d you think?”

“Oh shut up.” They were silent for a moment before Gerard spoke again. “You should go to sleep, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t sleep on the floor.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean it. Get up now.”

“Uh, can’t be fucked.” Frank whined, his limbs feeling as though they’d been weighted down.

“Frank. Now.”

“Uh, _fine_. Chill. I’m doing it now.” He slowly hauled himself up, trudging over to his bed and collapsing across it. “I’m in bed now, happy?”

“ _Immeasurably_.” Gerard replied, sarcastically, though his voice softened when he spoke again a moment later. “It’s gonna be okay, we’re gonna find it.”

“If you say so.” Frank muttered, doubtfully.

“Really, I promise. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.”

“G’night Frank.”

“Night Gerard.” Frank murmured, waiting for Gerard to hang up first, staring at the phone after he did so, slightly disbelievingly. He really did feel better.

 

The notebook wasn’t in lost property.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading as always. If you analyse this real close nothing really happens but hopefully it’s entertaining enough for that not to matter.
> 
> (Also if you look even closer there’s a reference to two Ryan Gosling films in this, which was wholly unintentional.)
> 
> Also holy shit we’ve hit 50,000 words wtf


	13. In Which Frank Loses His Shit Over Black Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard gets a detention and is annoyingly unbothered about it.

Gerard was about to set off home - he only stayed until lunch on Mondays - when he caught sight of the group of kids who’d been taunting Frank in class when he’d been forced to go and give his notebook back. Of course he hadn’t _had_ to do it in the middle of class, but he’d been really bored and honestly just wanted to miss a bit of maths. (And he enjoyed making a scene.)

They seemed to be laughing over something - in the cruel way people did when it was at the expense of someone else. Gerard was willing to bet anything it was Frank. Aware that he was basically an invisible presence at this school, he decided to wander closer to hear what they were saying out of pure curiosity. However, upon getting closer his stomach dropped a little. Now he had a better view of their table, he could now see what they were all focused on, and he suddenly felt ill.

Sat in the middle of the table was Frank’s notebook.

Now it’s important to note here that Gerard had never been a confrontational person. Quite the opposite, actually. He hated getting involved in things, and he’d never been very susceptible to provocation - unlike Frank, a connoisseur of the art. But right now he couldn’t stop himself.

And that was how he found himself strolling over and grabbing the notebook off the table. He was planning on leaving without a word, but they seemed to have other plans.

“Hey, give that back!”

He turned around, beginning to get pissed off. “Uhm, no?” He gave them an icy smile before turning to go. _As if I’m gonna be intimidated by a bunch of seventeen year olds. What a joke. I shouldn’t even still be at school, I’m supposed to be at fucking college right now._

“I said give that back!” Gerard heard a chair scrape and groaned. _God I hate being so fucking nice._

He turned round again, beginning to say, “And I said n-“ but he was interrupted when something rather hard collided with his face. That being, most likely, a fist.

“Hey!” That was Mikey’s voice, coming from across the cafeteria.

Stepping blindly backwards, Gerard held up a hand to his stinging face, still clutching the notebook. He wasn’t about to lose it now, he’d come this far. The Way brothers were many things, but quitters was not one of them.

Someone ran out in front of him and Gerard thought it was Mikey at first, and then remembered something: it was Mikey Way he was talking about. Squinting through his watering eyes, Gerard wasn’t entirely surprised to see Frank throwing himself at the guy, though he was quickly dragged away by a teacher, as was Gerard.

_Oh great. Whatever happened to staying out of other people’s business, huh Gerard?_

 

“ _Detention_?” Gerard was floored. “Sir, you can’t be serious.”

Gerard was sat in the principal’s office, Frank sulking in the chair beside him.

“Yeah, the prick deserved it.” Frank muttered and Gerard groaned. _He sure does know how to make things worse for himself._

“No,” He corrected him, firmly. “I get why _he_ ” He gestured to Frank, “has one, but why do _I_ have one?”

“Hey!” Frank protested, but Gerard and the principal skilfully ignored him, both having a great deal of practice in the art.

“I’m sorry, Gerard, but you instigated it.”

“With all due respect sir, I was just taking back what those guys _stole_ from Frank. Isn’t that worthy of punishment on their part? I mean one of them punched me, and he got off with a warning and I’m getting a detention? How is that fair?”

“I’m sorry, Gerard, this is just how things are.” The principal sighed, wearily. He seemed almost apologetic.

“Like hell it is.” Frank muttered and Gerard kicked him under the table.

“I understand, sir, but don’t you think I’m a bit old for detentions? I’m going to be twenty in a week!”

“Gerard, I don’t know what else to tell you. Just go along with Bruce Lee here after school for the rest of this week and arrange the files in H3. Got it? I am sorry things turned out this way, but next time come to us to sort things out, okay? You may go.”

“Okay.” Gerard sighed, wearily, getting up. “Thanks, sir.”

Frank started to get up too, but the principal stopped him. “You’re not going anywhere, Mike Tyson.”

Gerard went and waited outside for Frank to come out. When he finally did he was in an even fouler mood than before, practically kicking the door down.

“Lemme guess, he called you Rocky at least once?”

“Twice.” Frank corrected him, scowling. Gerard struggled to hold back his laughter.

“What the fuck was that about?” Gerard asked, as they walked down the corridor to H3. They’d been detained until the end of the day what with different management levels coming to talk to Frank - even the school therapist, who he seemed rather familiar with - and then the guy he’d punched, James, and his parents coming to talk to the principal. _What a mess._ Gerard thought to himself, shaking his head. “Why the hell do I have a detention?”

“It’s that fuckwit.”

“Who, James?”

Frank nodded, grimacing at the sound of his name. “Got in fights with him before. His family’s super wealthy and donate tons to the school.”

“Ah.” It was beginning to make sense. “So he gets whatever he wants, basically?”

“Yep.” Frank said, bitterly. “Gets on any sports team, even if he’s rubbish. I get in twice as much trouble if I mess with him and he gets off with some bullshit “warning”. It’s fucked up.”

“So I guess that explains why I got a _detention_ even though I’m a goddamn adult.” He was laughing now, at how stupid this whole thing was.

“That’d be why.” Frank said, eyeing a trash can wistfully, probably wishing he could kick it over.

“Wow.” Gerard exclaimed, shaking his head, still laughing.

“God, can you be any less mad about this?” Frank asked, turning to look at him.

“Huh?”

“Why are you so fine with this? You barely even argued with the old fucker.” (Frank’s affectionate name for the Principal.)

Gerard shrugged. “Would it have done shit if I had?”

“No, but-“

“Frank, some things just aren’t worth it. I know you’re an angry teenager who wants to fuck everything up, but you’ll learn eventually that some things just aren’t worth getting pissed off over.”

“I hope the fuck not.”

Gerard rolled his eyes, seeing he wasn’t getting through to him in the slightest. “What did he say to you when I left?”

“Same as always.” Frank replied, shrugging. “Just stuff about behaving and not making my dad worry and not reacting to being provoked. Shit like that.”

Gerard smiled a little at the nonchalant way Frank tried to relay it all. It was easy to see that even though Frank didn’t regret his actions in the slightest he still felt bad for disappointing the principal. “He cares a lot about you, huh?”

Frank frowned at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“He wasn’t just giving you some lecture, he was trying to help you.”

Frank looked away, embarrassed. “He still believes in me, somehow.”

Gerard felt a rush of gratefulness for the principal, despite the corruption going on with James’ family. He probably didn’t have a choice. Public schools were ridiculously underfunded and the school was shitty enough as it was, in the worst part of town; filled with crime and drugs. They needed all the help they could get, Gerard got that. Frank needed a parental figure - given his lack of consistently present parents - and the principal seemed to be trying his hardest to make a difference with Frank. That meant a lot, that someone was willing to be patient and help him. Frank wasn’t bad - he didn’t need to be constantly punished and shouted at, he just needed to be treated with patience and firmness, but also kindness. Frank wasn’t some kid disrupting class because he was bored; he was angry and hurting, and sometimes couldn’t help but act out of impulsivity.

“That means he sees something in you, Frankie.” He said, patting his shoulder. “He knows that’s not really you. You just need to prove him right.”

Frank nodded, still not looking at him.

“I know it’s hard.” He said, softly. “I was there too, last year. It felt like…” He hesitated, wondering if he was ready to open up this topic. He hadn’t really done that with anyone yet. But Frank understood where he was coming from. He wouldn’t judge. Gerard just wanted to make him feel understood; give him some hope things would get better. (Not that he was the best case in point for things getting better but still.) “It felt like I was disappointing everyone around me, and that there was no way out. So I just thought I might as well dig myself even deeper - what’s the point anymore, right? But look where that got me - in detention at nearly twenty years old.” He laughed a little at the ridiculousness of that statement. “He believes in you for a reason.” They reached the classroom. “And for the record, that fucker deserved it.” He reached in his bag, taking out the notebook and handing it to Frank. “Take my advice and never take this to school again, yeah?”

Frank nodded, smiling a little.

 

“Ugh, this is mind numbing.” Frank groaned, after twenty minutes of filing reports. They still had forty minutes to go.

“Oh stop whining, at least you’re here for legitimate reasons.” Gerard replied, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, I thought you said he deserved it!” Frank protested.

“Yeah, but you still started a fight. I’m the one who got _assaulted_ -“

“Oh come off it.” That was Frank’s turn to roll his eyes. “That little shit throws the weakest punches, it was probably like being punched by a newborn.”

“Kinda.” Gerard admitted, unable to stop himself from smiling. “I guess that’s why you look completely untouched.”

Frank shrugged. “Wouldn’t be if that teacher hadn’t decided to walk in though. All his friends would’ve ganged up on me.”

“Are they better at punching?”

“Nope.” Frank said, smiling a little. “They just have strength in numbers.”

“That’ll do it.” Gerard agreed, closing the file he’d been putting sheets into. “Thanks, by the way.”

“What for?”

“Getting in trouble for me.”

“They had my notebook.” Frank muttered. “As if it’s not too late to care about getting in trouble anyway.”

“Yeah, but I had the notebook at that point and I had my back to you. There’s no way you could’ve known that’s what we were arguing over.”

Frank shrugged. “I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

“Good thing they can’t punch for shit then.”

“Sure is.”

 

“What can I get for you?”

It was nearing closing time at Death’s diner, and Frank was serving a customer as politely as he could without telling him to piss off so he could go home for the night. Which meant through gritted teeth and with rapidly waning patience. There were few things Frank detested more than people coming in close to closing time. Just as you think you’re about to get off early you hear that goddamn bell ring, and suddenly Death’s “awfully busy” and you have to serve some lonely old fucker whose sole intent seems to be to make your life that bit more painful.

Of course, it could just be that they had developed a sudden craving for shitty fries at 10pm, but Frank tended to look for the worst in people, which meant everyone and everything was out to get him.

“I’ll take a coffee please. Black.”

“Black coffee.” Frank deadpanned, unable to believe his ears. When the man looked at him, questioningly, Frank repeated with a little more emphasis. “ _Black coffee.”_ _You have to be shitting me_. Of all the places you could get late night coffee around here - of which there were many - this motherfucker had chosen a _diner_ which closed at _10.30pm_. What kind of sick bastard did that? And black coffee at that! The guy could just make it in his own goddamn home!

“Yes.”

Clenching and unclenching his fist, showing what he would consider a great deal of restraint, Frank merely let out a strained, “ _Just a moment_ ” before turning and walking over to the kitchen, muttering as many foul words as he could think of.

“What’s pissed you off?” Death looked up from his newspaper, taking in Frank’s murderous expression.

“Black coffee.” Frank just snapped, by way of answer. When Death continued to look none the wiser, he added, “The motherfucker wants black _fucking_ coffee.”

Death laughed, putting down the paper. “The kid sure knew how to rile you up. What happened to the last brave guy to order coffee just before closing hours?”

“I put him through the window.” Frank muttered, making coffee as violently as is possible to do so.

“Poor Mikey was caught off guard.”

“Then you made me fix the window.”

“That would be correct.”

“You’re a dick.” Frank scowled, picking up the cup of coffee - _black fucking coffee_ \- and storming out of the kitchen and over to the man, slamming it down on the table in front of him. “You’re a dick too.” He said, decidedly.

“Huh?” The guy looked up, taken aback.

“That’s no way to talk to a customer.”

Frank looked up at the entrance of a new voice into the conversation, and was surprised to find Gerard stood at the door. “Nuh uh. Nope. We’re closing. Fuck off.” He walked over to Gerard and started pushing him out the door.

“Hey!” Gerard resisted, holding the door open with his foot. “That’s not very nice!”

“Yeah? Well I’m not really feeling in the mood to be nice, so if you would kindly step the fuck outside and-“

“Gerald!”

_For god’s sake._ Frank groaned internally at the sound of Death, happily welcoming the very guy he was trying to eject from the diner.

“Hey old man!” Gerard greeted him back, finally getting away from Frank and going over to shake Death’s hand. “Nice to see you again.”

“Brave of you to come down here so late.” Death said, and Frank scowled. “Frankie here has been known to karate chop anyone who pisses him off close to closing time.”

Gerard laughed and Frank’s mood worsened, which had hadn’t thought was even possible. “I thought I’d take my chances and-“

Gerard was cut off by a loud smash, followed by a shadow flashing across the diner. Frank immediately looked up to see the black coffee dude staring at the handle in his hand, no longer attached to the rest of the mug, which was now in shards on the floor beneath him. He was just staring, as though frozen, unable to move. Spilled coffee covered the table, dripping onto the floor.

Gerard too was stood gaping at him, utterly bewildered.

“Aw shit, not again.” Death said, though he didn’t sound particularly bothered. He also didn’t appear particularly bothered, sat on the counter, picking at him thumb. “Frankie? Wanna take care of that for me?”

Frank sighed wearily, rolling up his sleeves. “I’m not getting paid enough for this shit…” He looked around, trying to locate where the shadow had skulked off to, whilst racking his brains as to how it had gotten here in the first place. Death’s diner was notoriously difficult for ghosts to infiltrate, seeing as it was, well, ran by Death himself. Had Gerard somehow brought it with him? No, that was impossible. It had to be Frank’s fault, somehow, but he couldn’t recall making contact with any new spirits that day. “Gerard?”

“Yeah…?” Gerard was still staring at the broken china, unmoving.

“I’m gonna need you to close your eyes for a sec.”

“Okay…” Gerard answered him, shakily, apparently so confused that he unquestioningly obeyed Frank, closing his eyes.

“Okay, keep them closed till I say so, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“You too, black coffee!” Franks called over to the other guy, who snapped out of his reverie, blinking at Frank in bewilderment, before closing his eyes too. It really was amazing what fear did to people - made them far too complacent; trusting of anyone who seemed to have some kind of grip on the situation. (Which Frank admittedly did, for once. This was kind of his department, after all.)

Satisfied with that, Frank looked at the counter for something he could use - Death being of no use, having found a crossword to complete, which was apparently more interesting than watching Frank fight a hostile ghost. Frank rummaged around the counter, only managing to find a tiny butter knife for whatever reason. He was pretty sure Death was playing games with him. _Oh well, it’ll do._ He’d been equipped with less before… Though it hadn’t exactly turned out particularly well. But hey, Death was here this time. What could go wrong?

Frank was starting to look around for the shadow again, turning the knife between his fingers.

“Come on, you little fucker…” He muttered under his breath, scanning the diner.

“Above your head.” Death casually advised him, not looking up from his crossword.

“Huh?” Frank glanced up and was promptly hit in the face with a shadow.

“Nicely done.” Death called, sarcastically.

“Shut up!” Frank growled, ripping the shadow off of his face and trying to stab its eye, groaning in frustration when it slipped out of his fingers. Shadows are notoriously difficult to hold on to; they don’t like to stay in one place too long.

Frank jumped up onto the counter, chasing the shadow, which was now flitting across the wall. He jumped onto a table, making an unsuccessful grab for it, dislodging a few plates and cups and causing them to smash on the floor.

At the noise, Gerard jumped and around, nervously, despite still having his eyes closed. “Frank? What’s happening?”

“Don’t worry about it, honey, all under control.” Frank called back, dryly, in the middle of fending off the attack of a particularly angry spirit. It caught him in the jaw, scraping its claws against his cheek and he suppressed a hiss of pain, so as not to alarm Gerard any further.

“Can you please tell me what’s happening?” Gerard asked again, fidgeting in his seat.

“Gerard, one moment, please.” Frank said, through gritted teeth. He then realised he’d lost sight of the little fucker and looked around quickly. When he glanced briefly at Gerard, he found exactly what he was looking for. Not the ideal place to trap a ghost, really, but he didn’t have much of a choice. “Alright Gerard, keep your eyes closed.” He said again, and Gerard hummed in response, thoroughly rattled, unaware Frank was about to throw a knife pretty much at his head. The world’s tiniest butter knife, but a knife all the same. “Keep very still, it’s gonna be fine…” He drew back his wrist, aiming carefully at the shadow. “Don’t move…” He threw the knife. _Gotcha_. It threw the shadow back, pinning it against the wall.

Death looked up, boredly. “Got it yet?”

Frank nodded, dusting off his hands, relieved at how relatively easy that had been. Compared to previous times, at least, getting away with a scratched face was a miracle. “All yours now, old man.”

Death hopped off the counter and walked over to the shadow, carefully peeling it off the wall and cradling it in his hands. “Where’d you pick this guy up then, kid?” He asked, caressing it gently with his index finger.

“I didn’t.” Frank replied, shaking his head. “Well, not that I know of, anyway.”

“Interesting.” Death said, patting Gerard’s shoulder - causing the poor guy to jump out of his skin - on his way past to the stairs. “Perhaps it came along with your friend here.”

And with that he disappeared upstairs.

“You can open your eyes now.” Frank announced, laughing a little as he watched both Gerard and black coffee blinking their way back into reality, looking equally terrified. Black coffee quickly took his leave, tipping far too generously. Near death experiences tended to have that effect on people, Frank found, which was probably why he did so well off of tips. If you were looking for experiences in the realm of the dead then there was no better place to come or people to see.

“Uhm, are you gonna tell me what the fuck just happened?” Gerard asked, rubbing his forehead as though fighting off a headache.

“Hm,” Frank rubbed his chin, theatrically pretending to consider it. “Nope.”

“Of course not. Why would you? Why would anyone tell me anything round here?” Gerard muttered, dryly. It was only when he then looked up at Frank he noticed the cut on his face. “Frank, you’re bleeding!”

“I know.”

“Why are you bleeding?”

“Never mind that, why are you even here?” Frank asked, bluntly, which seemed to jolt Gerard back to the matter at hand. Whatever that was. Besides capturing ghosts, of course. That was an entirely different matter, and one that definitely didn’t concern Gerard. To be completely honest Frank was a bit pissed off at Gerard for having such awful timing. He could’ve been hurt if Frank hadn’t been around. Though it was probably best, actually. If the spirits really had been following Gerard it could’ve hurt him a lot worse if Frank hadn’t been there to get rid of it.

“Oh…” Gerard rubbed his neck, looking sheepish. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted me to take you to see Cara? I read about those guys in the paper… And though they’ve obviously been caught now, I don’t really want you hanging around there alone.”

Frank raised an eyebrow, equal parts touched and bewildered. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Uhm, yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. Lemme just get my jacket.” Frank headed for the staffroom, unable to stop himself from smiling a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Royally fucked up posting this and ended up deleting the second chapter so that’s cool. (Reposted it dw)
> 
> Have exams pretty much every day for the next few weeks so I’ll try and post the three/four chapters I’ve already in that time but won’t be writing much until afterward.
> 
> Thanks for all the support, you guys are sweet


	14. In Which Gerard is a bit Insensitive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Mikey work out their problems whilst (barely) watching baseball.

The graveyard was even scarier now that Gerard knew what had been going on there. The thought of Frank sat there alone waiting for him to show up around those guys still haunted him, imagining what could’ve happened.

Frank lead him over to where Cara’s grave was, Gerard using a flashlight to light the way - he’d grabbed one on the way out, knowing that where he was headed he would need one.

“Hey, d’you want me to go stand over there or somethin’?” Gerard asked, and Frank shook his head.

“Nah, you can come say hi if you want. She’d like that.”

“Oh yeah?” Gerard still didn’t know whether humouring him with this whole pretending she was alive thing was a good idea, but he didn’t want to upset him, and it wasn’t like he could really do anything else.

“Yeah, she thinks you’re hot.” Frank said, winking at him before turning and sitting down cross-legged beside the headstone.

Gerard rolled his eyes, going to sit beside Frank.

“I brought Gerard.” He said, conversationally. “Yeah, I know you wanted Mikey but he’s not around so I brought the next best thing.”

“Rude.” Gerard muttered.

Frank laughed. “Say hi.”

“Uhm, hi Cara.” Gerard said to the gravestone, waving awkwardly, eliciting another laugh from Frank. He had a cute laugh, Gerard noted very unnecessarily. “I haven’t seen you in a while…” Frank gestured at him to go on, but Gerard had run out of things to say. “Uhm… Sorry you’re dead and all…”

Frank cracked up, rolling around on the grass with laughter. That was cute too, the way he laughed with all his body. “Real smooth.”

“I don’t know what to say!” Gerard hissed at him, embarrassed beyond belief. Here he was talking to thin air and the only thing he could think of to say - for Frank’s benefit - was basically “sucks to be you”. Frank didn’t seem to mind though.

“Fair enough, fair enough.”

“I really am, though.” Gerard continued, turning back to the headstone. “Sorry, that is. You were such a good friend to my little brother, I’m really grateful for that. I’m… uh, I’m sorry he didn’t like you back. It doesn’t mean he didn’t love you, he really did. Does. He still does.”

Gerard glanced over at Frank after he finished, to see his easy smile falter a little at these words, and he immediately felt bad. Frank had liked Cara, but he knew she liked Mikey, right? And it was a long time ago… _I hope I didn’t hurt his feelings._

“Hey Frank?”

“Mm?”

“I’m gonna go wait by that tree, ‘kay?”

“A’ight.”

Gerard got up and walked away, and when he looked back over his shoulder Frank was engrossed in a one sided conversation with a gravestone.

 

“You liked her, right?”

Frank looked up from where he’d been playing with a Rubix cube, surprised. “Huh?”

“You liked her, didn’t you?” Gerard repeated, tapping his fingers restlessly against the steering wheel as they pulled up at a red light. Gerard often did that when he was trying to appear calm, Frank had noticed. For instance, in the diner earlier he’d obviously been terrified, but had remained completely still except for his hands, fidgeting nonstop at his sides.

“Uhm, yeah.” Frank answered, honestly. “When we were like fourteen, fifteen.”

“Not that long ago then.”

“Shut up.” Frank scowled. “You’re not that much older.”

Gerard laughed. “Alright kid.” They pulled up outside Frank’s. “Alrighty.”

“Don’t you have finals to be studying for?” Frank asked, abruptly, not seeming to have any intention of getting out the car anytime soon.

Gerard let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve been studying plenty. I just got bored and…”

“And?”

“I dunno, I just kinda wanted to see you, I guess.”

“Ain’t that sweet.”

“Don’t test me.”

“Wouldn’t dare, wouldn’t dare.” Frank held up his hands, mockingly. “You were so brave in the diner earlier.”

“Hey! You made me shut my eyes and then started breaking stuff! And you _still_ haven’t explained why you’ve got a cut on your face.” Gerard reached across to touch it but remembered himself when Frank flinched away. “Sorry, forgot.”

Frank shrugged indifferently, though he was definitely leaning away from Gerard now. "I was fighting a bitter old lady.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Oh shut up.”

“No, I really was.”

“Just get out, Frank.”

Frank laughed, and was halfway out the door when he stopped and turned back. “D’you wanna sit on the roof?” He asked, out of nowhere.

“Huh?”

“D’you wanna sit on the roof?” Frank repeated.

“Uhm…” Gerard was finding it hard to refuse whilst Frank was looking at him like that. “Why?”

Frank rubbed his neck, seemingly embarrassed. That unsettled Gerard. He’d thought Frank incapable of embarrassment. He was the most shameless person Gerard had ever met. One time before PE he hadn’t worn the right kit and the coach had asked him to change shirts, even after he explained he didn’t have the right one. So he’d taken off his shirt - in the middle of winter - had Mikey draw a very anatomically incorrect dick on his back in Sharpie, and ran 1500 metres like that. Another time the principle had asked him to set up the projector for an assembly before school, and so - annoyed at having to come in early - his very reasonable response was to set it up and play a very bad quality video of him playing the guitar to a Green Day song to the entire student body. (Safe to say the principle never asked him to come to school early again. Oh, and he got detention for a week.) Gerard had really thought him to be impossible to humiliate.

“I dunno, just we have these deck chairs that I can put up there and I have some beers… And it’s kinda cool to look at the stars from up there…” He trailed off when Gerard continued to stare blankly at him. “Forget it, it’s dumb.” He shut the door and started to walk up the steps to his apartment.

Gerard sat in the car for a few moments, watching Frank go. He had two options right now: go after him or drive away. The latter was definitely the more advisable. Frank was lonely, that much was obvious. He had one friend, and some old guy in a diner. He’d latched onto Gerard pretty quickly, once they’d stopped loathing being in one another’s presence, which wasn’t good. Now wasn’t a good time for Gerard to let an emotionally vulnerable teenager start to rely on him. He wasn’t the most stable person himself, and he couldn’t do that to Frank. He was supposed to be getting out of this town soon - Frank couldn’t do that for another two years at least. He couldn’t make him depend on him and then abandon him. That’d be cruel, right? Besides, he wasn’t entirely sure what Frank saw in him in the first place. He was pretty sure he was just starved for attention, and happy that he was getting it from someone who was older. He liked Frank a lot, it’d be hard to leave him behind when the time came. It would be better to put some distance between them now. It would be easier for the both of them if he let him walk away and think Gerard didn’t care, before he could get hurt.

 _Well that’s that then._ Gerard thought to himself, but he didn’t put his foot down. Couldn’t. There was something stopping him, some invisible force screaming that there was no way he could let go of Frank right now if he tried.

 

Ten minutes later Frank and Gerard had dragged two deck chairs onto the roof of the apartment block, and Frank had dumped a six pack of beer at their feet.

Frank sat down in one of the chairs, wearily, Gerard doing the same. Too late Frank realised he had positioned them a little close. Their shoulders were almost touching. _Too late to move now, I guess._ So he stayed where he was, cracking open a beer and taking a long drink. Gerard mirrored him.

“It is nice up here.” He said, a little breathlessly. Frank looked over at Gerard, who was looking up at the stars, smiling a little. He was so fixated he hadn’t noticed Frank had been staring at him for perhaps a bit too long. Or at least, Frank hoped he hadn’t.

“Told you.” Frank mumbled, just a little childishly.

“Mm.” Gerard hummed his agreement, a clear sign he wasn’t paying attention. “D’you come up here often?”

“Yeah, when it’s clear up there.” Frank gestured with his bottle to the sky, unnecessarily. “But it’s a bit lonely, sometimes.” He admitted, quietly.

Gerard turned to look at him, curiously, and Frank quickly looked away, afraid of being caught staring. “Really? I thought you liked being alone?”

“I do, yeah. But sometimes being alone is kinda uh,” He struggled to find something to say besides “lonely”, which would just make him seem like an idiot.

“Lonely?” Gerard suggested, and Frank felt a rush of warmth. _He isn’t intimidating._ He reminded himself, still looking up at the stars, trying not to smile. _He’s just as dumb as me._

“Yeah.”

“I get you.” Gerard said, taking a sip. “Sometimes you want to be with someone else, but you don’t want to do anything, right?”

Frank blinked over at him in surprise. That was precisely what he’d been thinking. “Yeah exactly.” He finished off his beer, reaching for another one, before adding quietly. “I like being with you.”

“Oh yeah?” Gerard smiled a little condescendingly and Frank immediately felt young and stupid again. He’s nearly twenty.  _Why would he be remotely interested in his little brother’s dumbass friend?_

“Yeah…”

“Why?” He didn’t look condescending anymore, just amused. Frank thought perhaps he’d probably imagined it. He was just projecting his insecurities onto other people, as usual. It didn’t make him feel any more worthy though, in fact, it was almost the opposite. The higher Gerard rose in his estimation the more unworthy Frank felt.

“I dunno.” Frank shrugged, staring down at the bottle in his hands to avoid eye contact. “I can be normal, I guess.”

“Yeah?” Gerard said, and Frank could feel him looking at him but couldn’t bring himself to look up and meet his gaze. If he did he felt like Gerard would see right through him to how he really felt. Then he might leave. Frank didn’t want him to leave. “I’m glad.” Gerard said, and Frank finally looked up. Gerard was looking at him, seriously. No condescending smile. He was taking Frank’s words seriously. Nobody did that. “Hey Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“You weren’t really fighting a bitter old lady were you?”

Frank grinned. “Could’ve been a man, didn’t get a good look honestly.”

Gerard shook his head, laughing. “You’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”

“Probably, yeah.” Frank agreed, looking down at his gloved hand and then at Gerard’s hand, which was sat on the armrest. His long slender fingers tapping restlessly. Frank had a sudden urge to hold it. And because he was an impulsive idiot, he did just that. He was wearing gloves covering his fingers this time, what could go wrong, right?

 

Gerard froze, looking slowly over at Frank who was taking a casual sip of beer, then down at his fingers, covered by Frank’s gloved hand. “Frank…” He began, gently.

Frank didn’t look at him, simply asking quietly, “What?”

“We shouldn’t…” He hesitated, unsure of how to word this so that he didn’t completely crush Frank’s feelings. “We shouldn’t do this right now, okay?”

“Okay.” Frank said, his voice barely audible. Before he could retract his hand Gerard grabbed hold of it firmly and gave it a little squeeze, trying to show him that he wasn’t mad. Sometimes he forgot Frank was still young, really. A seventeen year old with no relationship experience, one actual friend and an… _unusual_ personal life. He had his vulnerable moments like these, sure, but most of the time he seemed untouchable. (Quite literally, in fact.) It was easy to forget that he had quite delicate feelings.

Luckily Frank seemed to get the message, and when he withdrew his hand he didn’t seem too crushed, despite the fact that he’d effectively just been rejected.

“Why do you have beer anyway?” He asked, watching Frank quickly down his second one and reach for a third. “Also, slow down.”

“My dad doesn’t mind being stolen from every now and again. I’m not a kid.” Frank said, wryly. “Also, no.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Lucky you, I had to get my older-looking friends to hit up the dodgy shops when I was seventeen.”

“Did you not look old enough?” Frank asked, beginning to grin, clearly happy to have found a new thing to mock.

Gerard, you idiot. You always walk into these. Gerard scolded himself before replying. “Sure I did.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m twenty next week!”

“Sure don’t look like it.”

“Shut up!”

Eventually they finished off the last couple of beers and Gerard helped Frank carry the deck chairs back to his apartment, before realising he probably shouldn’t drive having just had so much to drink in quite quick succession. It would probably be fine but he definitely wasn’t leaving anything up to chance. “Guess I’m gonna have to walk home.”

“You can stay here, if you want.” Frank offered, shoving a deck chair in the closet. “You can have my bed and I’ll stay in my dad’s room.”

Gerard thought for a moment. He wasn’t sure about staying over after what had happened, but found himself agreeing anyway. _What happened to keeping your fucking distance, idiot?_ But he was tired and didn’t want to walk home in the cold without a jacket.

“Okay hang on, I’ll just get the spare blankets. You go on in.”

Gerard nodded and walked into Frank’s room, and was immediately hit in the face with how messy it was. There were books and records stuffed in every corner of the tiny room; clothes strewn all over the floor. Gerard sat on the end of the bed, a little uncomfortable. People’s rooms were rather personal, he found. Frank hadn’t even changed the sheets or anything. He tried not to think about that.

Finally Frank returned, having located the spare blankets for his dad’s room. He didn’t seem remotely embarrassed by the state of his room, and definitely didn’t seem about to apologise.

“Make yourself at home.” He said. “You don’t have school tomorrow, right?”

Gerard shook his head, playing with the corner of the sheet.

“Okay, I’ll leave the spare keys on the table then so you can lock up if I leave for school before you wake up, ‘kay?” Gerard, a little surprised at how considerate that was, nodded.

“G’night Frankie.”

“G’night.” Frank gave him a lazy wave before leaving.

“These sheets better not have jizz on them!” Gerard yelled after him.

“Fuck you!” Frank yelled back.

Gerard grinned and lay back on the bed, pulling out his cellphone to send a quick text to his mum, telling her he was staying at Ray’s, because it would sound weird that he was at Frank’s, given that they were supposed to hate each other and all. And it was just weird anyway, really. He then put his phone down, looking around for something to read or amuse himself with. He played with the rubix cube for a bit - unable to understand how Frank was so good - before his eyes fell on that digital camera he’d been so psyched about.

 _Let’s see what Frank’s been taking photos of, then._ Gerard thought with a small smile, picking it up and switching it on. The most recent ones were pretty predictable; dumb photos of Mikey and of random dead animals on the side of the road and various other disgusting Jersey sights. He eventually reached the time of the road trip though, and was quickly taken aback the more photos he clicked through.

He was in _all_ of them. Frank hadn’t taken a single landscape photo - unless Gerard was in it - or anything he would’ve usually taken. Every single photo was Gerard. He’d even kept some of the slightly blurry ones from the diner. There was a video of Frank waking him up with the cup of water that made him laugh a little.

Gerard clicked further through to where the photos were starting to get older and older. There were a lot of Mikey and the diner guy. Finally the first photo was an old one of Cara that struck Gerard especially. He stared at it for a long time. She was sat in the diner drinking a milkshake, not looking up. She was even wearing a t-shirt of his favourite band. There was no denying the two of them had been perfect for each other, if only she hadn’t liked someone else.

He put the camera down and switched off the lights, but he didn’t sleep well, nor did he hear Frank leave for school that morning.

 

“So how’s detention treating you?”

Frank glanced over at Mikey and made a face before taking a sip of coke. They were at the local baseball stadium watching the game, but neither were particularly engaged. In fact, they were getting looks from the people around them when they didn’t cheer when runs were scored. Given that they both had things on their mind, Frank thought they deserved a break on the cheering front. The last time he’d felt like cheering was when he’d kicked Death’s ass at pool last week, and even that had been a hollow victory because he’d been thrashed at darts almost immediately after.

“Not good, huh?”

“It’s detention, you think I’m gonna be leaping for joy?”

“Yeah but you get to spend it with your favourite person in the world.” Mikey elbowed him teasingly and Frank batted his arm away, irritably. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk about Gerard right now, though for different reasons than they might’ve been a few months ago.

“Yeah well he’s gone after Monday anyway. I have until the end of next week.”

“The hell?”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve gotten way lighter punishments for _far_ worse things.” Mikey pointed out, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Tell me about it.” Frank agreed, throwing another piece of popcorn at the head of a kid who liked to bully the shy kids in their grade. Frank was sat quite far him slightly to the left, so every time the kid turned around to see who it was he couldn’t see Frank. Made Frank laugh every time, but he wanted the kid to see him.

“Like the time you showed up to sports day drunk and ran the relay even though you weren’t supposed to.”

Frank grinned at the memory. “That was funny.”

“It wasn’t even your team you ran for.”

“And?”

“You knocked over an eighth grader to take the baton!”

“He was being slow.”

Mikey shook his head. “And you barely got punished for it.”

“Duh, I won the race.” Frank pointed out, as though it justified showing up drunk to a school event. To be fair, his best friend had died hardly a month before that. Everyone had been cutting him slack at that time so he took advantage of it as much as he could. _It’s what she would’ve wanted_ he sagely told people, and they had no idea that it was true. When he’d told Cara what had happened she’d died laughing. (Not that she needed to.)

“You just like being the centre of attention.” Mikey shook his head again, though Frank could see him trying to fight off a smile.

“Maybe, yeah.” Frank took a sip of coke, raising it half heartedly when their team scored some more points. How many exactly he really didn’t care. “Did you hear about the old lady across the road from the diner?”

“Huh? No, what happened? Kicked it?”

“Kicked it.” Frank confirmed, eyes following the players on the field. He decided that it was a good thing he wasn’t paying much attention; it’d only piss him off more. They were losing badly. Like, really badly.

“Aw, that’s a shame. I liked her.” Mikey said, sadly. “She gave me cookies all the time.”

“Her cookies tasted like crap.” Frank observed.

“Yep.”

“But we ate them anyway for her.”

“Yep.” Mikey repeated.

“She didn’t even hang around though. Was hopin’ to catch her before she left but she got right the fuck outta here.” Frank said, smiling a little. When spirits didn’t hang around it almost always meant that they had somewhere to be or someone to be with.

“Her husband died last year, right?”

“That’s right.”

Mikey smiled a little, catching on. “That’s cool. Hope she’s happy now.”

“Yeah, I think she is.”

They watched the game for a while before deciding it was too depressing and going back to idle chatter, before Mikey tentatively breached the Gerard topic once more.

“Hey Frankie?” He began carefully, and Frank sighed inwardly a little. He knew what that meant; he was either about to get a lecture or a difficult question, followed by a lecture. Either way he was getting a lecture. There were few things Frank loathed more than lectures, and one of them was difficult questions.

“Yeah Mikes?”

“Do you like my brother?”

Frank looked up and stared at Mikey in complete shock. “Huh?”

Mikey’s eyes grew wider with recognition. “You do, don’t you?”

“What? No!” Frank immediately denied it, more out of instinct than anything else. (Said instinct being to never reveal any kind of weakness to anyone, no matter how trustworthy he deemed them to be.)

“Frank, c’mon.” Mikey said, impatiently. “It’s fuckin’ obvious, you didn’t think I’d notice?”

Frank continued to stare at him for a few more moments before giving up and looking down, mumbling, “Maybe.”

“Knew it! I knew-“

“ _Maybe_.” Frank repeated, firmly, before Mikey could grow too smug. “I don’t know, okay?”

“Okay, so you have a crush on him but you don’t know if it’s love.”

Frank scoffed at the word “love”. “I’m certain it ain’t _love_.”

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s a dirty word.”

“You telling me it’s not?”

“Of course it isn’t!” Mikey protested, with more vigour than he’d used all afternoon, even for swearing at the disaster of a game unfolding before them.

“Yeah, right. All that comes out of love is sex, pain and death, usually in that order. You telling me they aren’t dirty words?”

“You got some weird kinks, bro.”

Frank punched Mikey’s shoulder. “You know what I mean, asshole.”

“Well I wasn’t gonna dignify it with an answer because you’re just too wrong. I can’t even argue with you.”

“I’m wrong, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, how about this? My father fell in love with my mother, right? Following?”

“As long as you don’t use any big words.” Mikey said, dryly.

“I’ll try not to. So he falls in love with her at high school, right? Senior year. For a whole year she doesn’t even know he exists and he’s just in agony over this unrequited love he has for her. Eventually-“

“What did I say about big words?”

“ _One day_ , she falls in love with him too and they have sex, yeah?”

“Ew. They’re your parents, bro.”

“How d’you think I got here?”

“Your parents fell in love senior year, had unprotected sex probably on their first time and you were born?”

“That would be correct. So my dad feels awful for, y’know-“

“Knocking her up.”

“Nicely said. So yeah, he feels bad for _knocking her up_ , as you so charmingly put it, but they’re in love and I’m born. My dad graduates but can’t go to college because he has to work to support my mom, even though he’s like the smartest guy I know.”

“Not much competition.”’

“Well yeah, but he’s super smart anyway. So he works in a shitty job he hates to support my mom and I, and then she kicks it. Just like that. Car hits car and bam. Gone. Dead.” He checked off the third item on his fingers. “So, to recap: love leads to sex which leads to pain which leads to death. It’s inevitable, whether it begins at nineteen or sixty.”

“Hopefully somewhere in the middle.” Mikey said, absently, apparently considering when the best time to fall in love and die would be.

“The point is,” Frank said, impatiently, “that if my parents hadn’t fallen in love then my mom would still be alive today.”

“But then you wouldn’t be alive.” Mikey pointed out and Frank shrugged.

“Can’t miss what you don’t have.”

“I’ve never thought that applies to life.”

“Well now you have.”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “I get it, Frank. But not everything is about death, you know that right? I’m sure your dad wouldn’t go back and change a thing. Sure he didn’t get to love her for all that long but at least he did. And he has you because of it, and I bet he wouldn’t trade you for anything, not even for her. It’s called life because you’re supposed to _live_ it, not fixate on death until you finally meet it.”

Frank shrugged. “Maybe. Whatever. I’m just saying, I don’t want anything to do with love.”

“Not even sex?” Mikey asked, teasingly.

“I never said they couldn’t be taken out of the equation.” Frank pointed out. “You can have sex without love.”

“Not very good sex.”

“What would you know?”

“More than you.”

He had him there. “That’s not fair.”

“Why, ‘cos you can’t touch people because of some weird curse you got from surviving a near-fatal accident and therefore can’t have sex in case you find out when they’re gonna die?”

“Awfully long-winded way to put it but yeah, basically. That. Death is a decidedly unsexy topic. Bit of a turn off, really. “Yes Frank! Tell me more about how I’m going to die a slow, painful death in a nursing home! Fuck, more!””

They were getting more looks now Frank had decided to pull an _I’ll have what she’s having_ moment but neither of them particularly cared.

“So yeah, pretty unfair.”

“Life ain’t fair, man.”

“You ain’t fair.” Frank sulked, throwing another piece of popcorn at the kid’s head.

“So, to summarise…” Mikey began, slowly. “You have a crush on my brother, but you won’t allow yourself to acknowledge the possibility that you might be in love with him because love leads to sex - which you can’t have - which leads to pain and then death, and you believe this because your dad couldn’t use a condom in high school and some drunk fuckwit accidentally killed your mum and inadvertently placed a weird death curse on you.”

“That was a lot of a big words you just used there, bud.”

Mikey sighed. “You like my brother but can’t love him because of your mommy issues and your creepy obsession with death. Better?”

Frank smiled icily at him and said, through gritted teeth, “ _Much_. Anyway, I never said I liked him. I said I _maybe_ liked him.”

“That makes no sense. You either do or you don’t.”

“Then I don’t.”

“Bullshit.”

Frank groaned and sank into his seat. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Frank, look, I’m not gonna tell him or anything.”

“I know.” Frank said, and he meant it. He knew Mikey would never do that. After a moment, he asked quickly, “What does he think of me?”

“We’re not telepathic or anything.” Mikey protested, though Frank saw through it immediately.

“Hey, don’t make excuses. I know you tell each other everything, and you know each other so well you don’t even have to.”

Mikey sighed. Sometimes having a best friend who knew you way too well backfired. “He likes you. A lot more than he did before.”

Frank felt a stab of disappointment. That wasn’t encouraging in the slightest. “That’s hardly saying anything; he hated me before!”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t now!” Mikey said, quickly, trying to smooth things over, but it was too late. Frank’s worst fears had already been confirmed. Gerard liked him, sure: as a little brother, or some other friend zone bullshit. But he wasn’t attracted to Frank in any way, that much was pretty obvious. It should’ve been a given from the way Gerard rejected him the other day - though he went on to pretend as though he hadn’t - but Frank had been holding out on the stupid hope that maybe he hadn’t understood what he’d been doing or the small chance that maybe he actually did like Frank, but he didn’t want to admit it. Maybe he thought it was weird to be into your little brother’s best friend. But those hopes were dashed.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” He tried to dismiss the topic, busying himself with his popcorn to avoid Mikey’s gaze.

“I never said he didn’t like you!” Mikey said, shaking Frank’s shoulder to get him to look up. “Honestly, yeah, I think he’s into you. But like, I don’t know how much or whether he really likes you or just thinks you’re cute or whatever.”

“Yeah.” Frank mumbled, still not looking at him.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?” Mikey tried again, softer this time. “I don’t want him to send you the wrong message only for you to find that he doesn’t wanna date you, or to get your hopes up that he likes you when it’s just platonic, y’know? I can’t just say whatever and think nothing of it.”

Frank smiled a little despite himself. “Thanks Mikes.”

“What for?” Mikey asked, confused. He’d been expecting more argument.

“Thanks.” Frank repeated, putting his arm around his friend and ruffling his hair, fondly. “You wanna get out of here? This game is bringing me the fuck down.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

They got up to leave, Frank aiming one more bit of popcorn at the kid’s head and grinning when he finally saw who his attacker was.

As they were walking out of the stands, Mikey suddenly said, “Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re wrong.”

“You’re _kidding_. Hang on, I’ve gotta call the papers.”

Mikey rolled his eyes, repeating himself. “You’re wrong.”

“No way, man. Bout what?”

“Your love equation thingy.”

Frank frowned over at him as they got into his shitty car. “Oh yeah?”

“Not all love leads to sex, pain and death.”

Frank raised an eyebrow.

“ _We_ don’t have any of those things.”

“Yet.” Frank winked at him, and Mikey groaned and punched him in the arm. Frank laughed, continuing. “Just saying, there’s a whole lotta death coming your way, Mikey Way.”

“Not as much as yours.”

“Touché, touché.”

And having established they would never have sex with each other, but Frank would probably witness Mikey’s (pretty timely) death they drove off to the diner to play pool and get drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit’s gonna hit the fan soon


	15. In Which Frank Skips Detention For Detention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: awful chess playing ahead

Frank wasn’t there when Gerard arrived at H3 after school on Monday. He looked cautiously in every corner of the room, just in case Frank was hiding there, waiting to scare the shit out of him. (Gerard scared very easily, a fact that he probably should’ve hidden from Frank, in retrospect.) But he was nowhere to be find, so Gerard sighed and got started on filing.

One more day and his humiliation was over. It was embarrassing beyond belief to be stuck in detention when he was turning twenty on the weekend. Ridiculous. It had been kind of nice, though, spending some extra time with Frank. They messed around, for the most part, occasionally falling out and refusing to speak to one another, but giving up after twenty minutes when they inevitably got bored, and going back to joking.

It took about ten minutes of mind numbing filing until the sound of the handle being turned made him look up.

“You took your sweet time.” He greeted him, perhaps a little bitterly.

Frank shrugged, dropping his bag down on the table. “Had to talk to someone.”

“You got another detention, didn’t you?”

“No…” Frank sat down, picking up a file. “Absolutely not. I would never.”

Gerard raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

Frank caved. “Fine, I was bored and wanted to see you so I hopped out the window when she wasn’t looking. It was totally unfair anyway, I didn’t even do anything.”

Gerard groaned. “God, would it kill you to stay out of trouble?”

“I think it just might.” Frank replied, sagely. “Nobody knows the untold dangers of a world in which I’m not a prime suspect for every school-based crime.”

“That was a long way of saying you can’t help being an impulsive idiot.”

“And that was a long way of saying you can’t mind your own business.”

Gerard glared at him and chucked the file down, picking up another. “What did you actually do?”

“Nothing!” Frank protested adamantly.

“Frank.”

“I wasn’t doing anything! That’s why she was pissed off.” He muttered, bitterly.

“Huh?”

“Apparently I wasn’t listening and she started yelling at me which wasn’t cool to do to someone who’s just woken up-“ At this Gerard rolled his eyes. “-so I told her that listening to her bored me so much that I fell asleep and she gave me a detention.”

“Frank!”

“Hey, she was rude first! She didn’t have to shout…”

“Jesus man, you need to learn to control your temper. You can’t just say whatever you want all the time.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because you’ll get into trouble. You can’t go your whole life acting like a rebellious kid.”

Frank scowled, flicking through a file, not about to respond.

Gerard sighed, deciding it was time to change the subject. Frank always shut down when Gerard started to lecture him, and he got that. Nobody wants to hear that shit, especially not from your friend’s loser older brother. It wasn’t like he was Frank’s brother or anything, he didn’t really have a right to lecture him. “Man this sucks. I can’t wait till it’s over.”

“Well at least yours is over today.” Frank sulked.

“I shouldn’t even be here in the first place!” Gerard protested, indignantly.

“And I should? I was just defending you!”

“You could’ve done it with your mouth and not your fists.”

“I don’t see how kissing him would’ve helped.” Frank said, and Gerard groaned.

“Oh shut up.”

“But hey, since you’ll kiss just about anyone maybe you could tell me.”

“Anyone?” Gerard glared over at him, suddenly beginning to get pissed off. Before neither of them had been serious but that felt like a targeted blow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Frank shrugged nonchalantly and Gerard’s irritation increased tenfold. “Nothing, nothing.”

“No, go on. Seems like you got something to say, huh?”

Frank shrugged again.

“This is about Sam, isn’t it?”

Frank didn’t answer, which was more than enough confirmation.

“Not this shit again.” Gerard groaned, running his hands down his face. “I was doing it to get back at you, okay? And I don’t make out with just anyone, alright? That’s a shitty thing to say.” He slammed the file down and started to get up.

“Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Frank stood up too, though he didn’t look at Gerard as he spoke. _He’s so childish he can’t even look me in the eye whilst he apologises._ Gerard shook his head, not buying it for a second. What he’d meant was: “I’m sorry you took offence to something I totally meant.”

“Yeah? Sure seemed like it. You know you still haven’t apologised for being a dick that time. To me _and_ him.”

Frank opened his mouth but seemed lost for words, so Gerard continued, too pissed off to stop.

“Just because you were jealous I wasn’t giving you my full attention for five seconds doesn’t give you the right to be rude to him and to ruin my evening. That’s not how adults do things, though I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that, you’re just a kid.” Gerard said, coldly, though it gave him no pleasure to watch Frank’s eyes fill with hurt, even if he had been angry with him. His anger had dissipated as quickly as it had arrived.

“I’m not a kid.” Frank said, finally meeting Gerard’s gaze, evenly.

“Well you sure are doing a good job of acting like one.” Gerard replied, a sense of relief washing over him. He felt good having finally said all of that. He wasn’t even angry with Frank anymore, he just wanted him to admit he’d been wrong.

“I’m sorry, okay? I really am…” Frank looked down again and Gerard sighed.

“Why won’t you look at me when you say that?” He asked, exasperatedly. “It makes it seem like you don’t mean it at all.”

“I do!” Frank protested, looking back up. “I didn’t mean to say you’d kiss anyone and… And shit like that… I just-“ He paused, looking frustrated, probably that he couldn’t come up with the right words. “I guess I was jealous.” He managed, finally.

_Got there in the end._

“I know.” Gerard said. He went over to Frank and sat on the table beside him. “Wasn’t that easier than being a dick?”

“No.” Frank mumbled into his shoulder and Gerard laughed a little. “It was ten times worse. Being a dick is easy.”

“Fair enough.” Gerard said, still laughing.

“I’m sorry.” Frank’s voice was muffled, but more sincere than Gerard had ever heard it. He truly meant it. “Gerard?”

“Yeah?”

“Did I actually ruin your evening?”

“Nah, I didn’t mean that, I was just trying to make a point.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You made it better in the end. I didn’t like that guy anyway.”

“Yeah, he sucked.” Frank mumbled, and Gerard laughed, stroking his hair a little.

“Yeah, he did.”

 

“God I’m glad that’s over.”

“Not for me.”

“Sucks to be you, huh?”

“I’d take detention every day over being you.”

“Would you stop arguing for five seconds?” Gerard’s dad was getting a tad impatient with Frank and Gerard’s incessant bickering.

“Just let them tire themselves out.” Mikey said and Frank kicked him.

“We’re not kids!”

“I’ve seen elementary schoolers more mature than you.”

“Don’t you start as well, Michael.”

Frank had gone home with Gerard as his dad was away again and he didn’t have any food at home. Gerard’s mum was always happy for him to join them for dinner.

“So why did you two have detention again in the first place?” Gerard’s dad asked, clearly not having been paying much attention.

“Uhm.” They glanced at each other briefly and silently agreed not to tell the truth. Or at least, the whole truth, anyway.

“I may have got in a fight.” Frank said quickly, shoving food in his mouth as soon as he finished talking.

“Really, Frankie? Again?” Gerard’s mum shook her head disapprovingly, whilst her husband laughed. He’d never been one to condemn any of Frank’s misdemeanours, finding the kid to be far too entertaining.

“They started it!” Frank protested, indignantly. “Back me up here, Mikes.”

“They did start it.” He agreed, solemnly.

She didn’t appear to be particularly convinced but seemed to let it slide for the time being. “And how were you involved?” She turned to her oldest son, raising an eyebrow.

“Apparently I “ _instigated_ it”.” He replied bitterly, using air quotations to prove how unfair the entire thing was.

His mother just shook her head disapprovingly whilst his father looked overjoyed to hear it.

Frank liked the Way household.

 

An hour later the three of them were sat in the living room - Frank and Mikey on the sofa and Gerard on the uncomfy chair - watching Back to the Future for the millionth time. Marty’s mum had just started hitting on him when Gerard decided now was as good a time as any to go get some blankets from his room. The living room was always the coldest room in the house, and that added to the fact that his body temperature was always below average didn’t make for particularly good viewing pleasure. Especially when incest was being hinted at on screen.

He ran down the stairs - in the fear he might miss something good - and into his room, knocking over Frank’s bag in the process, the contents of which were now strewn over the floor.

 _Did he have to balance it on the end of my desk?_ Gerard thought, exasperatedly, bending down to put the contents back inside, when he noticed Frank’s notebook lying open on the floor. _What happened to the lock? And didn’t I tell him not to bring it to school? Idiot never listens._

He sighed, kneeling down and picking the notebook up to put it back in the bag, when something caught his gaze. He hadn’t been trying to read it or anything, but his eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to a name scribbled onto the page, crossed through the middle but still legible: _Cara Smith_ , followed by a date: _11th February 2003_. As his eyes travelled up the page they fell upon several more names and dates, some crossed out, some not.

“What the hell-“

“Hey, can you chuck me my bag?”

Gerard looked up, and froze at the sight of Frank stood at the top of the stairs.

Frank’s eyes slowly widened as they took in the scene. “What… What do you think you’re doing?”

Gerard was completely frozen, and could only stare at him as Frank ran down the stairs and ripped the notebook out of his hands.

“Wait!” He reached out and grabbed Frank’s exposed wrist without thinking, just wanting to stop him and explain himself. Too late he realised what he’d done and quickly withdrew his grip, but it didn’t matter anymore.

Frank looked over at him, his eyes wide, before turning and sprinting back up the stairs.

“Frank, wait!” Gerard stumbled to his feet and ran up the stairs after him, but by the time he got into the living room he heard the front door slam.

Not about to let him go that easily Gerard ran out the door and caught up with Frank, who had stopped running. “Wait a second, let me explain-“

“Don’t.” Frank didn’t even look at him as he spoke, his tone completely cold and devoid of anger or any kind of emotion. Just empty. That terrified Gerard.

“Okay, you can be angry, but don’t go. You don’t understand-“

“I don’t care.” Again, that monotonous reply.

“Frank, I can’t let you go alone after last time.”

“I’m fine. Just go away.”

“Frank-“

Frank stopped and turned to him, his face still completely blank. “Gerard. Leave me alone.” His words seemed to stab Gerard right in the heart.

Frank turned and kept walking, but Gerard didn’t follow. He just stood there, watching Frank’s figure get smaller and smaller until he couldn’t see him anymore, before finally turning and heading back into the house, mind swimming with thoughts, all of them unwelcome.

He stood there, his stomach churning with unease until he caught Mikey’s gaze from across the room.

“What the hell was that all about?” He asked, understandably confused.

Gerard shook his head. “I…” He decided to leave out the notebook part for now, not having the energy to defend himself. “I accidentally touched him.” He murmured, hating the words coming out of his mouth.

“Oh.” Mikey said, expression first blank, before the realisation set in. “ _Oh_. Fuck.”

And Gerard saw real, genuine panic in his brother’s eyes, and he didn’t know why. Gerard was panicked because he felt like he’d violated Frank’s trust in more than one way, even though both had been accidental, but the fact that the other two were so freaked out scared him even more, because he had no idea why it mattered so much.

“Mikey…” He began, slowly. “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Mikey looked up at him, opening his mouth, and for a moment Gerard thought he was about to finally tell him. But then he seemed to think better of it, and instead shook his head.

“Not right now. I need to-“

“Don’t.” Gerard said, as he watched his brother start to get up. “I don’t think he wants to see anyone right now.”

“But-“

“Talk to him tomorrow, if you have to. But I’ll sort it out so you hopefully won’t have to.”

“No, you won’t.” Mikey muttered, but he went upstairs anyway, leaving Gerard stood in the middle of the living room, feeling awful.

 

_Maybe I saw it wrong._

In the twenty minutes it took Frank to walk to the diner in the pouring rain, that was the only coherent thought that crossed his mind. Otherwise it was entirely empty. The second Gerard’s hand had closed around his wrist, everything had gone completely blank. There it was, flashing across his mind, but he could hardly focus on it. The numbers were there, the month too, but he hardly registered them.

It didn’t really matter what they were. Whether it was tomorrow or in two hundred years (unlikely, given the normal human lifespan, but Frank was hardly thinking properly), Gerard was dying. He was practically already dead. That’s how it was to Frank; when he found out somebody’s death date they became a living ghost with a best before date stamped across their forehead.

Gerard was already dead.

The one person he’d wanted to live was dead, and he’d never even got to tell him how he felt. Now it was too late.

 

When Frank showed up on Death’s doorstep, the very picture of a drowned rat, it wasn’t Death himself who answered, but the Man Upstairs.

“Ah, just the person I wanted to see.” Frank announced, slurring to the point of near improhensibility, before promptly collapsing.

When he woke up, he was sat in one of the booths, his head resting against Death’s shoulder, drool dripping down his chin.

“Decided to grace us with your presence then?” The Man Upstairs asked from across the table, taking a dainty sip of her tea. Frank wrinkled his nose. He hated herbal tea.

“No.” He replied, closing his eyes again only to be gently shaken by the old man.

“I think we need to have a talk, kid.”

“Nothing to talk ‘bout.” Frank murmured, trying to push him away. “All’s good in this neck of the woods.”

He watched Death exchange a glance with the Man Upstairs, which he recognised from the Way household. It was the kind of look Mikey’s parents gave each other when their kids were being stubborn and they were too tired to deal with them; each trying to communicate with their eyes to the other that they didn’t want to be the one to argue with them that night. He was impressed at his ability to pick up social cues despite being semi-conscious, drooling and wrapped in a Winnie the Pooh towel.

“I heard you caught the game yesterday.” The Man Upstairs said, conversationally.

“From who?” Frank asked, having a strange feeling that the words weren’t his own as he was saying them. Death had gotten up, apparently to make himself a cocktail. Now was obviously a good time for cocktails. (Death would probably say anytime was a good time for cocktails.)

“Let me rephrase. I _saw_ you caught the game yesterday.”

“Stalker.” Frank mumbled, and Death chuckled from where he was pouring himself a drink. Frank held up his hand to signal he wanted one.

“You have an attitude problem.” The Man Upstairs declared.

“And you have a drinking problem.” Frank slurred. “You don’t think I know that milkshake is full of vodka? Probably mixed with the blood of your enemies too, fuckin’ psycho.”

“That’s awfully sassy for someone surrounded by dead bodies.” She replied, dryly.

“They’re _souls_ , not bodies.” Frank corrected.

“What’s the difference?”

Frank stared at her for a moment before Death arrived with their drinks, saving his poor addled brain from having to concoct an answer. It was impossible to argue with the Man Upstairs.

“You were saying about the game?” Death reminded her, clearly hoping she was about to reach some kind of point.

“Oh yes. How was it?”

Frank shrugged. “We didn’t stay till the end but I heard they lost.”

“Shame, I bet 20 bucks on them.”

“Was that really why you were asking?” Death asked, beginning to lose his patience a little.

“Just making conversation.” She replied, evenly. “So dear, are you going to tell us what’s wrong?”

“You know what’s wrong.” Frank replied, taking a sip of his drink, pleased to find that Death has made it particularly strong. He was beginning to feel like less of a ghost now, but his mind was still stubbornly refusing to process anything that had just happened.

“Yes, but what’s _really_ wrong is very much subjective.”

“That so?”

Death shrugged. He never had a clue what the Man Upstairs was on about.

“Indeed. So start from the top.”

“He’s dead.”

“Interesting, interesting.” She didn’t ask who “he” was. Frank supposed he didn’t need to clarify.

“Ah, so you found out, huh?” Death asked, his eyes sympathetic.

“Just… What date did you see? When you saw him in Staples that time…”

Death smiled sadly at him. “You know, kid.”

“Just say it.”

“October 12th 2005. 3 months from now.”

Frank sighed. _That’s that then._

“Oh dear.” The Man Upstairs shook her head in a bad imitation of sympathy. “Should I get us more drinks?”

 

Many cocktails later the three of them were engaged in a very heated game of chess. It didn’t seem to matter that chess was in fact a two player game, such details could be overlooked at a time of crisis. (Which meant that the rules rarely applied.)

“Checkmate, motherfucker!” Frank shouted, throwing one of his bishops across the board to take out Death’s king.

“That’s bullshit!” Death argued back, pointing a pawn at him, accusingly. “You can only take the king out with a knight, everyone knows that!”

“Boys, boys.” The Man Upstairs interrupted, holding a hand between them. “I won three turns ago.”

“You did?” They asked, simultaneously.

The Man Upstairs shook her head, laughing. “Yes, look - all my pieces are off the board.” She gestured to the neat assortment of different pieces beside her - of both colours.

“Oh yes, yes, you’re right.” Death agreed, scratching his head. “Well, good game.”

“Well played.” Frank announced, shoving the board off of the table, prompting a well-deserved eye roll from the Man Upstairs.

“So Frankie, what are you going to do about your little friend?”

“He’s not little.” Frank argued, pointlessly.

“That’s what we say en francais.”

“I was never good at French.” Death said, unnecessarily.

Frank ignored him, thinking hard on the question. “I’m gonna save him.” He declared, decidedly.

She laughed.

“What’s so funny, old lady?”

“You can’t save him, sweetie.”

“Yes I can! I did it before!”

“The old man?”

“Yeah.”

“That wasn’t you, baby.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have the power to change fate like that, silly! You’re a kid who should’ve died in a car accident thirteen years ago, not some kind of god, my dear.”

“Well when you put it like that…”

“So saving him is quite out of the question, I’m afraid. Any other ideas?”

“Throw him a goodbye party?” Death suggested, and Frank considered this.

“Not permanent enough.” He decided, after some evaluation. He then turned back to the Man Upstairs. “Are you sure I can’t save him? Please? I don’t want him to go, I really like him…”

“I know, sweetie. He’s nice to you, of course you like him.”

“That’s not all!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Of course not! He-“ He took a brief intermission to think, before continuing. “He’s kind and stupid and funny and he has a nice face and uhm-“

“Alright, dear, I think you’ve proved your point. But you said it yourself, you’re not in love with him. I’m sure you could live without him.”

“ _I can’tttt._ ” Frank whined, drumming his fingers restlessly on the table. “Mikey would miss him too.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“I want to kiss him.” Frank murmured, absently.

“I know. But you can’t do that if he’s six feet under.” She reminded him, practically.

“Yeah…”

“So what are you going to do about it then?”

Frank thought hard for a moment, before his eyes lit up and he began to dig around in his pockets, finally finding what he was looking for and throwing it on the table.

The Man Upstairs picked up the card, inspected it and laughed. “You want to use this, do you?”

“You owe me a favour, right?”

She laughed again. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Save him.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. He’s your 100th name. He’s supposed to die then. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

Frank took the card back, slumping back in his chair, his face crumpling. “Then why are you even asking me what I’m going to do? There’s nothing I _can_ do.”

“That’s not true. Think about it, little one. He’s your 100th name.”

“And?”

“Well, find me another one who can die before then and you can have your little friend.”

“That’s too hard.” Frank sulked, drawing rings on the table with the spilled cocktails. Death nodded his agreement. He hated challenges, which was probably why he was in the death profession. The task of life was best left to individuals like the Man Upstairs, who could think of nothing more fun than wreaking havoc on the poor souls around them.

“Well there’s one other thing you could do.”

“Yeah?”

“Kill the guy responsible for his death.”

Frank stared at her for a few moments before finally replying, “Maybe not that one.”

“Wise choice. Wouldn’t want to give Death here any more paperwork.”

“I hate paperwork.”

“Or you could let fate take its course.” She suggested, ignoring Death.

“It’s not fate.” Frank said, firmly. “He’s not supposed to die.”

“You’re not going to take it from an expert?”

“What would you know about death?” Frank mumbled, beginning to feel sleepy. “You haven’t even lived through it.”

“You’re right there, little one.” She agreed, smiling a little as he promptly fell asleep. “You’ve lived through it more than anyone.”

“Hello?” Death interrupted, irritated to be forgotten.

“You were never alive to begin with.”

Death huffed, not pleased with this remark. “Why did you tell him he can’t save the guy? He did it before.”

She shrugged. “Just to make things interesting. Besides, with any luck he’ll fail. The kid’s supposed to die, and I’ll be very displeased if anything changes that. Now I think it’s time to call it a night.”

Death sighed, looking over at Frank, now fast asleep. “I think you might be right.”

“By the way…”

“Mm?”

“What happened to that soul? The one the dead boy brought in with him.”

“Escaped.”

“Oh dear. That can’t be good.”

“Perhaps the shadow missed its owner.” Death murmured, in a manner suggesting he wasn’t particularly interested.

“Or perhaps it wanted to destroy its owner.” The Man Upstairs replied, in a manner which suggested she was very much interested.

“Psycho.”

“Hm? And what does that make you?”

“Passive observer.”

“Pfft, yeah right.” She scoffed, downing her drink. “Well, I’m off to bed. Take care of the kid.”

“Like I wasn’t going to.” Death rolled his eyes, waving his hand at her dismissively. “Go on and get lost. I’ll take care of things down here.”

She gave him an odd look. “Well, that is your job.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Death replied, stroking Frank’s hair a little. “Goodnight.”

“Good morning.” She replied, disappearing upstairs.

“Psycho…” He muttered, shaking his head and glancing outside to see a sliver of sunlight stretching out across the sky. _I guess it is morning after all, huh?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thanks for reading and for the kind words as usual. Good luck making sense of this one.
> 
> Nearly done with exams so will be writing more soon. Not that it makes much of a difference since I have a ton of stuff already written but whatever.
> 
> Oh and isn’t Frank’s new album great?


	16. In Which Frank Gets Punched Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank is basically Ghostbusters

“Hey, you’ve reached Frank. If you have a problem with the undead then call me back sometime, and if you don’t, then forget what I just said-“

Voicemail again. Gerard sighed, throwing his phone down on the bed. It had been five days and Frank still wouldn’t return his - or Mikey’s - calls. He hadn’t come into school either, and when Mikey tried his place he either wasn’t in or was just ignoring him. It didn’t make sense. He got why Frank would be angry at him, but why ignore Mikey? What did he have to do with anything?

“Who understands Frank anyway?” Gerard muttered, dragging himself out of bed. It wasn’t like he was about to sleep anytime soon, and he didn’t much feel like going into school tomorrow. He might as well just go for a little walk. He glanced over at the clock for confirmation.

11.30pm.

Well, it was as good a time as any to go walking alone in this part of town. Night or day didn’t make much of a difference. And it wasn’t like he was going to get mugged or anything - he was just an empty-handed skinny loser wearing Batman pyjamas, not exactly a valuable hostage.

Gerard slipped on some shoes and headed out. It was chilly, but he didn’t bother with a jacket. He was just going round the block, after all. He hadn’t been able to sleep for days because of Frank. All he could think about was how awful he felt, and how much he wished he could put things right. Or, as right as they had been before.

He really needed to stop thinking about it.

Gerard shook his head, and continued down the street, not a clue where he was heading. The further he went, the more he regretted leaving the house at all. Even though it was as good a time as any, that didn’t mean it was actually a good time. In fact, it was a terrible time. It was always a terrible time to walk around these parts alone, and the middle of the night probably wasn’t the smartest time to stretch his legs.

_Calm down, idiot, nothing’s wrong, just chill. You’re worrying over nothing-_

Something flashed through his peripheral vision. Something that he knew wouldn’t be there if he turned to look, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified. It was that feeling when you just know something’s there, whether or not it has malicious intent. You can just feel it.

 _Don’t turn around._ Gerard stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets, forcing himself to walk at the same pace and not start running. _Just keep going like nothing’s wrong._

Ah, the good old tactic: pretend everything’s fine and it will be. Works every time.

But after a couple of minutes, Gerard couldn’t help himself. He picked up his pace a little until he was jogging. But it was still there. He could still feel it, stuck to him like a shadow.

_Okay, I need an out. Like. Right now._

Gerard glanced around frantically, squinting into the darkness for any possible refuge until his gaze settled on a phone booth a few yards away. _That’ll do_. He ran over to it, yanking the door open and slamming it shut behind him. Feeling a ridiculous sense of relief for someone running from an imaginary presence, having just boxed themself in, Gerard leaned back against the wall, panting. He had no idea what he was running from, but it had scared the shit out of him, and he had a feeling that if he left the phone booth right now something bad was going to happen.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, before he found himself reaching into his pocket for a quarter. With a shaky hand, he slotted it in and picked up the receiver. At first he had no idea who to call. Who could even help with this kind of thing? Who would be awake?

The answer to both of those questions wasn’t Ghostbusters, but someone who hadn’t answered his calls for days and had probably blocked his number.

But… He wouldn’t know it was Gerard calling this time.

He’d resolved to leave him alone, but he was desperate right now.

And so he found himself dialling Frank’s number. He’d called it enough times that week to know it backwards.

It rang at least ten times, and Gerard was about to give up when there was a click, and the sound of Frank’s voice made him freeze.

“Hello?” It was still thick with sleep, and slightly confused, but it was Frank’s voice alright.

Of course Frank was the kind of person to pick up a call from an unknown caller at night. That’s what he’d been banking on at least.

But now Gerard was frozen. He had no idea what to say.

_Hey, I know we haven’t spoken in days and you hate me now and all, but I’m out for a midnight walk in my pyjamas and I think an invisible force is chasing me and the first person I thought to call was you. Wanna get a milkshake? Maybe fries?_

“Uhm…” He finally said, with that famous Way eloquence he and Mikey had both been brought up with.

There was a pause, before Frank said, very slowly, “Who is this?”

And that was when Gerard promptly slammed the receiver down and bolted. Apparently facing Frank was more terrifying than getting eaten by an evil spirit.

He sprinted the whole way home.

 

“Well that was weird.” Frank muttered, putting down the phone and getting back into bed.

“Who was it?” His dad called from the hotel bathroom.

“No idea!” He yelled back, resting his head back down on the pillow. “For a minute I-“ He hesitated.

“You what?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He turned out the light, closing his eyes, but sleep wasn’t coming willingly.

_For a minute there I could’ve sworn that was Gerard’s voice._

 

Mikey was going insane.

Gerard was moping around, not having left his room in two days now, and Frank was still nowhere to be found. His parents were useless and oblivious and Death just shrugged and told him they needed to “work it out amongst themselves”.

So when he received a text from Frank simply saying: _graveyard_? he forgot to put on shoes as he ran out the front door.

 

“Hey idiot.”

Frank looked up from where he and Cara had been making daisy chains - well, he was, and she was sulking at him again for picking her “friends” - to see Mikey storming through the front gate. “Hey, glad you-“ He was cut off when Mikey finished storming up to him and punctuated it by punching him. In the face. You know, like normal friends do to greet one another.

Frank staggered backwards in shock before immediately leaping to his feet. “Hey! What the hell was that for?”

“For being an idiot, that’s what.” Mikey replied, starting forward again.

Frank anticipated him this time and dodged his fist. Out the corner of his eye he caught Cara watching them with mild disinterest.

“Would you quit it?” He grabbed Mikey’s arm and tried to throw him to the ground but his friend slipped away, still not backing down. “What’s wrong with you?” He tried to get closer to him to talk, not in the least understanding what was happening.

“What’s wrong with you?” Mikey replied, his fist connecting again this time.

“Hey!” Frank fell against the tree behind him, holding a hand up to his nose. He brought it away and he could see a faint smudge of blood.

He pushed himself away from the tree, now abandoning defence. “Why- are you- doing this?”

“Did you know how worried I was?”

“Huh?” Frank ducked a blow, jumping up onto a headstone. It felt a little disrespectful, but he was sure old Doris wouldn’t mind. She liked him because he always listened to stories about her children. He then continued to hop between them, apologising profusely to each person.

_Sorry James, sorry Linda- whoops, sorry Fred! I’ll pay for that when I get some money!_

“How can you just disappear for a week like that and not return any of my calls? I thought you were dead!”

“Pfft.” Frank scoffed. “I’m not in your sight for a few days and you assume I’m dead? Sounds reasonable.”

“Don’t be a prick.” Cara said, observing them boredly.

“Shut up, Cara.”

Mikey smirked. “What did she say?”

“She said I’m right and you need to stop punching me if you don’t wanna get hurt.”

“Then why did you tell her to shut up, fuckwit?”

“Because I would love for you to get hurt right now.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Fine, she said I’m a prick. Maybe I am. But I was right about the second part. I wouldn’t keep at this if I were you.”

Frank hadn’t started this, and despite his words, he didn’t want to hurt Mikey. He still had no idea why they were even fighting in the first place.

“That’s enough!”

Frank staggered backwards when Cara was suddenly in front of him, scowling.

“What now?”

“If you’re going to behave like this then get out of my sight. You’re making me feel sick.” She snapped, and Frank blinked up at her.

“That’s not fair! He’s the one who attacked me! I was just defending myself!”

“Uhm…” Mikey began, sounding reasonably confused. “What are you-“

“Shut up!” Frank and Cara yelled simultaneously, though of course he only heard Frank.

“You’re being an asshole and you know it. Now go and apologise to your friend or get the hell away from my fucking grave.”

Frank pouted, glaring at her.

“I mean it.”

“Fine! Jesus, he started it…” Frank mumbled, stalking past her. It was a bit pathetic that a dead girl held so much power over him.

“Good boy.” She praised, smiling a little as Frank walked over to Mikey, gave him a little shove before collapsing onto his friend.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled into his jumper, fully aware that his blood was getting on Mikey’s clothes. He deserved it for punching him like that. And anyway, Mikey was definitely bleeding on him, too.

“I’m sorry too, you idiot.” Mikey replied, pulling away. “But don’t do that again. I mean it, Frank.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I was with my dad, helping to load his equipment and stuff. He let me take the last few days off school.”

“For god’s sake Frank, couldn’t you have told me that? Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“I just…” Frank looked down, finding no excuse because he had none. “I don't know what to do, Mikey.”

“Yeah, I know. We need to talk.”

 

“Well it’s about time.”

When Frank, Mikey and Cara showed up at the diner in the early hours of the morning, the boys’ faces smeared with blood and their clothes all muddy, Death wasn’t particularly surprised. He was just glad to have Frank back.

“Not gonna ask where I was, old man?” Frank asked, patting him on the shoulder as he walked past and fell into a nearby booth.

“I’m the Grim Reaper, kid. I know where you were.”

“Show off.” Frank muttered, rolling his eyes as Cara came beside him. In the diner she was strong enough for him to be able to touch her, sometimes. The Grim Reaper had that effect on spirits.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mikey protested, glaring over at Death.

“Now, now. If he didn’t tell you where he was I think the kid had his own reasons.”

“Other than being a prick.” Cara pointed out.

“Would you quit saying that?” Frank hissed. “The old man’s right, though.” He added, looking up at Mikey, trying to convey his apologeticness with his tone. “I just needed to get away. I won’t do it again.”

“You better not.” Mikey said, sitting down opposite him. “Anyway, we need to talk about my brother.”

Frank sighed, staring down at the table. Cara was poking his cheek repeatedly, which wasn’t helping the thought process. “There isn’t anything to talk about.”

“But-“

“Mikey. I’m serious. There’s nothing to say. Don’t ask me again.”

Mikey stared at him for a moment before holding up his hands in defeat. “Fine. I get it. D’you wanna watch Star Wars?”

“Now that’s more like it.”

“Nice to see you’re still nerds.” Cara muttered, following them as they went back into the movie room to watch Empire for the millionth time. _Just like old times._ Just as though Mikey’s brother wasn’t due to die in three months time. Just as though Frank wasn’t in love with someone who was now dead to him.

 

Mikey was nowhere to be found. It was 3am - Gerard hadn’t been able to sleep and wanted to go wake up Mikey for some company but he wasn’t in his bedroom, or anywhere else in the house.

And so, naturally, Gerard was driving down to the diner - where he was bound to be - in the middle of the night. Because that was a normal person thing to do.

When he caught sight of the shabby building, he stopped and jumped out, barefoot. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his pyjamas. They were too comfortable.

But when he got inside, it was empty. The old man wasn’t there, and Mikey definitely wasn’t.

“Hello?” He called, quietly. This place was so weird he wouldn’t be surprised if some creep suddenly materialised from a booth. But nobody did.

He was about to turn around and leave when he remembered something; that time he’d done a Star Wars marathon here. There was some kind of backroom; if Mikey was here he’d definitely be in there.

“Worth a shot.” He muttered, before heading over to the door at the back. The handle was deathly cold. Not just like the normal cool of metal, it was something he’d never felt before. It wasn’t so much as a numbing sensation as a stinging one. _What the hell is with this place? It’s like a fucking morgue… But with milkshakes._

“Mikey?” He pushed the door open - impatient to get his hand off of the handle - and was relieved to find his brother sat on the sofa in front of Star Wars. That is, he was relieved for about two seconds, until he caught sight of who was sat beside him.

“Hey Gee.” Mikey waved. Frank didn’t turn around. It was as though Gerard didn’t even exist. It was even worse than before - Frank didn’t hate him anymore: it was like they were strangers.

“Hey. Are you coming home?” He asked, awkwardly, trying to stop his gaze from wandering over to Frank, even though it was just the back of his head.

“Why? D’you need me?”

“No, no, I just… Couldn’t sleep is all.”

“D’you wanna watch with us?” Mikey invited him, his tone causal, though he surely knew how awkward this whole situation was.

“No, that’s alright. I’ll just… I’ll just head home. I think I can sleep now.” _Preferably six feet under and until the end of time. God, something please swallow me. End this awkwardness, I’m begging you._

“Alright. See you.” Mikey waved, turning back around to focus on the film.

“Yeah, see you Mikes.” Gerard turned, pausing before his hand reached the door handle. “Bye Frank.”

Unsurprisingly there was no reply.

Gerard sighed, taking the handle only to find it was searing hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading


	17. In Which Frank Goes Ghost Hunting with a Biro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death does taxes.

“I just don’t get it.”

“They’re paperclips, Gee.”

“Huh?” Gerard looked down at the box of paperclips in his hands and then over at Ray. “I know _that_!”

“Then what don’t you get?” Ray asked, scratching his head. “You’ve been stacking those boxes on the shelf and then unstacking them for the last twenty minutes.”

Gerard looked at the empty shelves, which were supposed to be filled with product, eyes widening. “The hell? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Ray shrugged. “I figured you had some kinda reason. And it was kinda funny.”

Gerard groaned. “Uh, now I have to start all over.” He began stacking them on the shelf again.

“What’s wrong?”

Gerard sighed. “Everything.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic.”

“That’s like asking someone not to breathe.”

“It’s possible. Not indefinitely, but for a while at least.”

“I guess.”

“So hold your breath for a sec and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Frank.”

“Ah.”

“Yep.”

“Go on then.”

“It’s a long story.”

Ray glanced at his watch a little theatrically for someone chiding him for being dramatic. “It’s a long shift.”

 _Where to begin…_ “So Frankie has this notebook. It’s like really important to him.”

“Why?” Ray asked, already engrossed.

“I don’t know. I think Mikey knows, but he won’t tell me. Anyway, I accidentally ended up holding it - swear to god it wasn’t on purpose - and he came in and saw me. I guess he thought I was snooping.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Ray said, diplomatically.

“Well yeah, that’s why I tried to explain myself. But I grabbed his wrist by accident.”

“Oh dear?”

“Frank doesn’t touch other people. Not skin on skin.”

“Why?”

“Imagine if I knew.”

“You don’t seem to know a lot about this guy.”

Gerard was quiet for a moment. _You’re right. I don’t._ “I guess. Anyway, he can’t be touched for whatever reason. I don’t know why, but it seems like something big. Mikey won’t even tell me why.”

“Huh.”

“So now he won’t talk to me.”

“Really? Just for that?”

“Right? I’ve tried to apologise and make up for it but he won’t even look at me! I don’t know what to do…”

“Just let him cool down. He’ll come round.”

“This is Frankie. He doesn’t cool down. He’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Besides…”

“Besides?”

Gerard sighed, looking away. “I think I really hurt him. I don’t know how to put it right. I think he has problems with trust. I finally got him to trust me and now I’ve ruined it.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Ray said, sympathetically, patting his shoulder. “You can’t change what happened, but you can try to make him see that it wasn’t intentional.”

“I don’t know if that’ll be enough…”

“Can’t hurt to try though.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Gerard smiled a little. “Thanks man.”

“No worries. Oh, and Gee?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re doing it again.”

Gerard looked at him blankly for a moment before glancing down at the stack of boxes, and then at the empty shelf. “Goddamnit.”

 

The phone was ringing. It had been doing that for at least 5 minutes now. Frank really wished it would shut up.

“Frank! Phone!” He heard his dad shout from across the apartment.

“I’m in the bath!” He yelled back, which was true. He’d used some money he’d gotten from washing his neighbor’s car to buy some bubble bath which he was really psyched about. He hadn’t had a bath in at least five years and he was sick of showers. If you did something every day at 5.30am then it wasn’t going to be something you really looked forward to.

“What the hell are you in there for?” His dad shouted back. Of course, he could just come closer and speak normally, but the Iero’s didn’t seem capable of communication below a particular volume. They sometimes got noise complaints from neighbors thinking they were arguing when in fact they were just discussing what to have for dinner in a needlessly aggressive manner.

“Writing a fuckin’ novel, man. Leave me alone.”

“Frank!”

“I’m washing!”

“Bullshit, you’re avoiding something!”

“Oh yeah?” Frank called, not paying much attention, he was too fixated on the bubbles on his chest. They looked like they’d taste good, but childhood experience told him otherwise. Next time he had a bath he thought he might replace the water with milkshake or lemonade or something. _I bet that’s good for your skin… I’d have to wash a lot more cars though…_

“People only have baths to avoid their responsibilities.”

“What am I avoiding then?” The ringing was really starting to get on his nerves.

“The fucking phone!”

“Why am I responsible for the phone?” Frank muttered, throwing some bubbles at the wall. “Fine! Bring it in here!”

“What am I, your goddamn slave?”

“Original.” Frank mumbled, smearing some more bubbles on the wall and constructing something vaguely resembling an F.

“Catch.”

Frank raised his hand, closing his fingers around the phone, still studying the bubbles on the wall. “Don’t see why you couldn’t answer it yourself…” He muttered, before putting it to his ear. “The fuck do you want?”

“That’s no way to speak to your principal.” The principal’s voice greeted his ear.

Frank groaned, balancing the receiver between his cheek and his shoulder and going back to writing his name in bubbles. “What now, old man?”

“ _Much better._ ” The principal replied, dryly. “Why don’t you pick up your phone?”

“I was in the bath.” Frank replied, though he wasn’t sure why he was using past tense. He was very much still in the bath. “You’re awful persistent. Phone’s been ringin’ for like an hour.”

“It’s been four minutes, and I believe that would be the fault of the person not picking the damn thing up.”

“Most people would give up.” Frank frowned a little. The A didn’t quite look right. He was running out of bubbles.

“Well I’ve been your long suffering principal for this long, I thought I could handle a little more.”

“Fair. So, what do you want then?”

“When are you coming back to school, Frank?”

“Monday.” He replied, absently. The N was looking better than the A. “Do you need anything else? I’m running out of bubbles here.”

“Bubbles?”

“Time.” He corrected himself. “Or bubbles.”

The principal sighed, heavily. “Just come to school, Frank. That’s all I ask of you.”

“I will, I will.” Frank replied, dismissively. “I’m going through a rough patch, you see.”

“I don’t see.”

“You should get some glasses then.”

“Ha. Ha. What’s wrong, Frank?” The principal asked, and the concern in his voice made him pause halfway through the K. The F was beginning to melt.

“I need to save someone but I don’t know how.”

“What do you need to save them from?”

“That’s the problem.” He said, switching the receiver to the other shoulder. “I really do have to let you go.”

“Wait, Frank. Don’t hang up.”

“I’m coming in on Monday, I told you!” Frank whined, starting to get impatient. No matter how he looked at it, the A just didn’t seem right.

“Don’t get short with me, I’m not talking about that.”

“What then?”

“You need to save yourself before you can save anyone else, Frank.”

“But how do I do that?” Frank asked, a little tearfully. He was all confused now. He wished he’d never answered the phone.

“Open up to people about things. And come to your damn classes.” The principal replied, before there was a click and the line went dead.

“Motherfucker hung up on me!” Frank exclaimed, incredulously. “Man, how sad…” He shook his head, staring at the FRANK which wasn’t really FRANK anymore. “Can’t even hold a conversation with the fuckin’ school principal.” He put the receiver down on the floor beside the bath, staring at the cord attached to it, snaking around the bathroom door.

He sat back in the bathtub, leaning his head back against the wall and let it cool his forehead. One hand drew itself out of the soapy water and he inspected it with the eyes of an antique dealer assessing some sentimental junk dug up from someone’s dusty attic. It was useless, worthless. Too ugly to be admired, too fragile to do its original purpose.

“How am I supposed to save myself?”

Death’s words echoed in his memory, from the day they met. The day Frank saw his mum buried.

_You humans are so strange. You were built for such a great purpose but with such fragile parts. That little heart of yours was not made to withstand love, only to draw you to what you fear most._

_Which is?_

_Death._

_I don’t fear death._

_You should. I bite._

Frank raised his forehead from the wall and lifted himself out of the tub, reaching for a towel. He stumbled over to the sink, though the taps were of little use to him. Instead he lifted his chin and braved his own reflection in the mirror, finally losing his energy and allowing his forehead to fall against the cool glass. He stayed like that for a few moments, before clearing his voice to call out.

“Hey dad?”

“Yeah?”

The steam was making him dizzy.

“I think I’m burning up.”

 

“Hey old man.”

“What now?”

“That’s an odd way of saying you missed me.” Frank replied, sitting up on the counter next to Death, who was sat at his desk, doing his “taxes”.

“I’m busy, kid.”

“Well don’t be. I wanna talk to you.”

“Bout what?”

“Stuff… I’m bored, okay?” Not quite bored, more needing a distraction.

“Go be bored somewhere else!”

“Aw, gimme something to do at least! I’ll do anything. What about souls? Got any for me to track down?”

Death glanced up for a second before quickly shaking his head. “No.” He said, shortly.

“Speaking of souls, whatever happened to the one I caught the other day? Has it passed yet?”

Death stopped writing abruptly, before sighing and putting his pen down. “About that…”

Frank raised any eyebrow. “Huh?”

“It got out.”

“What? How?”

“I don’t know. It’s never happened before. The Man Upstairs reckons it’s gone looking for whoever summoned it.”

“Whatever for?” Frank asked, frowning. “They never do that.” An uneasy feeling was beginning to bubble up inside him, wrapping its icy fingers around his heart and squeezing tightly. He reached a hand up to his chest unconsciously. There was something that was evading the grasp of his mind, he just knew it. Where had that soul came from?

Death met his gaze, warily. “She thinks it wants to destroy him.”

“Him?” Frank repeated before it struck him like a bullet to the chest. “Gerard.”

“Frank-“ Death reached for him but Frank was already on his feet, making for the door.

He let him go. In the end, the kid would do what he wanted. That’s what worried him so much.

 

That night Frank went out ghost hunting with a shovel, pink Barbie sunglasses and a biro.

 

Gerard was drifting asleep when the phone rang. Drowsily, he dragged himself back to the waking world, eyelids still heavy with dreams.

Usually he would just ignore it and go to sleep, but something in his gut was screaming at him to get up and answer the goddamn phone. So he did.

“Hello?” He said, upon picking up the receiver. There wasn’t much else he could think to open with.

“Mikey?”

 _Frank?_ His voice was strange. Breathless and… Not himself. “No, it’s Gerar-“

“Mikey, help me.”

There it was, that feeling of being struck by a fear so intense you couldn’t even move.

“Help me, please. I wanna go home… Wanna go…”

“Frank, what’s wrong?” He brought himself to ask, shakily. His fingers around the receiver were beginning to tremble.

“I wanna go home…”

“What happened? Frank, what’s wrong?”

“Can you get Gerard?” Frank asked, tearfully. His voice was growing fainter and more drowsy, and Gerard could feel him slipping away. _Don’t let him go, don’t let him go._

“Frank, where are you? I’ll come get you.” Something was very, very wrong.

“I want Gerard.” Frank repeated.

“He’s here.” Gerard reassured him, gripping the receiver tighter. “He’s here, so tell me where you are and he’ll come get you, okay?” _He doesn’t even recognise my voice, he thinks I’m Mikey… What the hell happened?_

“I’m lying down.”

“Where?”

“Grass… With Cara…” _Graveyard_. “I want Gerard…” He said again, more quietly this time. _Fuck, I’m losing him._ “Please bring him. I want to…” He trailed off.

“Frank! Stay with me!.”

“Mm…”

“I’m on my way,” He said, as he was pulling his jacket on, grabbing his car keys off the shelf and hurrying up the stairs. “So tell me what’s wrong with you. Are you hurt?”

“Hurt…” Frank repeated, his words slurred and unclear. “I’m bleeding.”

“Bleeding?” Gerard asked, knocking frantically on Mikey’s door. “Why are you bleeding? Frank?”

No reply. He’d lost him.

“ _Fuck_!” He banged harder on Mikey’s door.

A few seconds later Mikey appeared, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “What the hell, Gerard? Do you know what time it is?”

“It’s Frank.” He said, grabbing Mikey’s arm and dragging him to the door. “He’s hurt.”

“Okay.” Mikey immediately said, following him out to the car. His voice was calm but Gerard saw his eyes widen a little in fear. “Okay, talk me through it. Where is he?”

“Graveyard. I think.”

“You think?”

“I’m not certain.”

“Okay, so you take me to the diner so I can get the old man and then head straight to the graveyard, and we’ll catch you up.”

They got into the car and Gerard immediately sped off, hands still shaking.

“Mikes, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know.” Mikey replied, evenly, staring ahead. “But I can hazard a guess.”

“Please.” Gerard begged him, briefly glancing over in his brother’s direction.

“I’m sure he just got into a fight with someone again.”

“Are you sure? I didn’t think anyone had it in for him…”

“It’s Frank we’re talking about here.”

“Yeah but-“

Mikey sighed, heavily. “You want the truth? The old man… He’s not just a guy who owns a diner.”

“What is he then? Mafia? Has Frank been kidnapped?” He sounded crazy. But what was worse was that Mikey was looking at him as though he were perfectly sane.

“He…” Mikey paused before continuing. “He’s not like us. He’s… He’s immortal. A god, of sorts.”

“Huh?”

“Death.”

Gerard pulled up outside the diner and simply gaped at his brother. “What… What are you saying?”

“He’s Death, and Frank… Frank helps him out. You see, he sees ghosts.”

“Very funny.”

“Do you think I’d be joking at a time like this?”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Mikey groaned. “Did you actually believe me for a second? I told you; he probably got into a fight with some kids round here. Nothing new. Now are you going to go find Frank who could be dying in the mud for all we know, or are you going to stay here staring at me?”

“I’m going to get Frank, but you’re still crazy.” Gerard said, watching his brother get out the car.

“Go find him.” Was all Mikey said.

 

It was too dark to see him properly, but Gerard could just about make out Frank’s body laying beside Cara’s gravestone. It was as though someone had punched him, knocking all the air out of his lungs, the second he laid eyes on him. Frank was crumpled against the headstone, his left side covered in what he could discern as blood, upon closer inspection.

He really had been bleeding.

“Frankie?” He ran over to him, falling to the ground and grasping his head in his hands. “Fuck, Frank? Can you hear me?”

“Mm…” Frank groaned. He sounded like he was in pain.

“Frank, it’s Gerard.”

“You came…” He mumbled, slurring his words. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, behind a pair of ridiculous sunglasses, one of the lenses smashed out.

“It’s okay, I’m here. You’re gonna be okay.” He ran his shaky fingers through Frank’s hair, trying to soothe him. “Frankie, where does it hurt?”

“Ughh…” He groaned again and the sound pained Gerard to hear.

He looked down at Frank, braving the sight of all that blood again. In his hand was clutched a biro pen. Gerard slowly unclasped Frank’s fingers from around it and took it. After a quick inspection, he shoved it into his pocket and forgot all about it.

“Who did this to you, Frankie?” He whispered, hugging him closer. He didn’t know anything about first aid; at this point he didn’t even know what was real anymore. All he could do was sit there, hugging him tightly until Mikey showed up with the old man a few minutes later. Together, the three of them carried Frank into the car and sped off to the hospital, Frank bleeding onto Gerard’s batman pyjamas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and thanks for the nice words !


	18. In Which Frank Still Has a Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minor head injuries don’t inhibit Frank’s ability to complete a Rubix Cube.

Gerard had briefly left the hospital to get changed into some more dignified clothes before hurrying back to sit outside Frank’s room with Mikey and the old man. None of them said a word about what they thought might have caused Frank’s predicament, instead cracking jokes and talking about how they were going to kill him when he woke up. 

He was fine, as the doctor had quickly assessed. There were some minor cuts and bruises on his face, but nothing that would scar, hopefully. (Though Frank would probably like that.) What Gerard had assumed to be deliciousness from blood loss had actually been a mild concussion from where they assumed Frank had hit his head on a gravestone - another disturbing thought. According to the doctor he’d be fine when he woke up after a little rest, but they were going to do some scans in case. They had just stitched up the wound on his side, which thankfully wasn’t too deep, but still hurt Gerard to think of.

The nature of the wound was what had stumped the doctors. Not a knife wound. More like a claw wound, but without many of the features of a claw. It had really rattled the ward, and Gerard had watched several doctors come and go, each looking more confused than the last.

He personally didn’t care what had done it, he was just ridiculously relieved that Frank wasn’t about to die. So relieved that he couldn’t wait to punch him in the face - when it healed - for making him worry so much.

Except he wouldn’t be doing that. The second Frank woke up he would have to leave. He wouldn’t even be able to ask him how he was doing. Whether or not he was okay…

He was jolted out of his moping by Mikey’s hand on his shoulder. He’d just been speaking to the doctor.

“Do you want to go and see him?” He asked, gently. He looked exhausted, and Gerard couldn’t really blame him. He had been woken up in the middle of the night to go find his best friend passed out in a graveyard, covered in blood. 

Gerard shook his head. “I don’t want him to wake up and find me there.”

Mikey sighed. “He asked for you, Gee. On the phone, right? I get that he’s still mad at you or whatever, but he obviously still likes you.”

Those last two words made Gerard flinch. Likes you. That was something that he’d been worrying about for a while.

Mikey groaned, taking in his blank expression. “Come on, don’t pretend you don’t know. Now really isn’t the time for playing dumb. We all know he’s head over heels for you, okay? He’d be happy to see you, even if he didn’t show it. But he’s not even awake, and I know you want to see him, so go on already.”

Gerard didn’t move, trying not to process Mikey’s words properly. It wasn’t a topic he was ready to deal with, especially not when it was his little brother forcing him to think about it. He didn’t want Mikey getting involved in this stuff, though he supposed it was inevitable when it concerned his best friend.

“Just fucking go.” Mikey snapped, impatiently, grabbing his arm and shoving him into the room, slamming the door.

Gerard flinched, expecting the abrupt sound to wake Frank up, but he didn’t stir.

So, having established he wasn’t about to get yelled at - and rather wishing he was, so he had an excuse to run away - Gerard moved closer. Now he could see Frank’s face, which they’d cleaned up a little, but had already started to bruise. His eyebrow had split, and there was a cut on his cheek, but not too deep. Even so, it hurt his heart a little.

He hadn’t argued with Mikey because he hadn’t wanted him to know that he didn’t want to see Frank not because of their falling out but because he couldn’t bear to look at him injured like that. It had hurt him almost unbearably finding him like that, but this was hardly any better.

“Hey Frank.” He murmured, going over to crouch beside him. His hand hovered over Frank’s face, hesitating before brushing the hair away from his forehead to reveal another smaller cut. Hardly anything, but it was still hard to look at. He gently ran his thumb over Frank’s cheek, making sure to avoid the cut on it. Frank drew in a sharp breath, as if in pain, and Gerard quickly withdrew his hand.

“Sorry.” He murmured, getting up. “I’m sorry, Frankie.” 

Gerard sat back on his heels, daring to look at the rest of his body. He couldn’t quite bring himself to lift up the corner of his shirt to look at the wound in his side, so he instead got up and headed to the door. He lingered by the door for a second, before turning and walking back over to the bed. “You can show me your gross stitches some other time, okay?” He took the Rubix cube he’d grabbed from his room when he went home to get changed and set it down on the table beside Frank. “Bye then…”

And he quickly walked out the door before he could stop himself.

 

“Did you call his dad?”

The old man shook his head, shoving another forkful of tart in his mouth.

Mikey had gone to the bathroom, and Gerard was waiting for their mum to arrive. She was coming to pay the hospital bill, because she knew Frank’s dad couldn’t afford it. When she was done Gerard was going to go home with her. He found he was hoping she got stuck in traffic, even though it was incredibly unlikely.

This entire ordeal had been incredibly stressful and tiring, and Gerard really wanted to sleep, but he wished he could do it whilst staying near Frank.

“Why not?”

“The kid wouldn’t want me to. Besides, he’d just insist on paying for the bills and then they wouldn’t be able to eat lunch for a month. He’s fine, it’s nothing serious, so there’s no need to worry him. Frank will tell him on his own.”

Gerard shook his head, disbelievingly. “What’s with you guys?”

“Why am I a plural all of a sudden?”

“I mean you and Mikey! Why are you acting as if this is no big deal?”

“Because it is no big deal.”

“Bullshit. I find Frank like that in the middle of the night, barely able to string a sentence together and you’re telling me everything’s fine? What kinda shit do you guys usually get up to?”

The old man didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes said: much worse.

“Whatever. I’m just saying, one day I’m gonna go get him and he’s not gonna be fine.”

“Everyone dies.” The old man said with a shrug.

“Well yeah, but they’re not supposed to at seventeen! He’s a kid, for God’s sake, stop treating him like he’s not.”

“That kid is not a typical seventeen year old.”

“Oh yeah?” Gerard scoffed, not sure why he was so riled up. It was far too early to be pissed off about anything. He should be in bed, not arguing with the owner of New Jersey’s shittiest diner over the maturity of New Jersey’s most childish seventeen year old. “Well he is to me, and I don’t wanna be going to his fucking funeral.”

“Oh you won’t be.” The old man said, casually. The certainty with which he said it struck something in Gerard, and he suddenly got the chills. There was something about this guy. He was weird. Even weirder than Frank, and that was hard.

“Listen, Jeremy.” 

Gerard didn’t bother correcting him.

“Mm?”

“You don’t need to worry about him. I’ll take care of the kid, you just take care of yourself.”

Gerard nodded, not meeting his gaze. There was no way he wasn’t going to worry about Frank. In fact, this assurance made him worry even more. He seriously doubted this freak could take care of Frank. “Hey old man?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I do?”

“With what?”

“Frank. What do I do to make him forgive me?”

The old man looked at him sympathetically. “Give him time. He’ll come around.”

“But what if he doesn’t? He’s the most stubborn person alive.”

The old man acknowledged this with a knowing smile. That’s not very helpful. “He’ll come around.”

“How can you be so sure?”

The old man shrugged. “He may be the most stubborn kid alive, but I know for sure he ain’t gonna be able to last another week not seeing you.”

Gerard stared at him for a moment, before looking away, not knowing how to feel about that. “If you say so…” He muttered.

The old man chuckled. “You kids.”

He continued to chuckle, as though Frank wasn’t lying in a hospital bed, having just had a chunk clawed out of him by someone/thing.

 

When Frank woke up, he felt like absolute shit. Nothing new there, then.

The big gouge in his side was new, though. Not the most frequent occurrence, waking up with a chunk of you missing. Even rarer to not know how the fuck you got in that particular predicament.

Therefore, when Frank woke up in a hospital bed with no recollection as to how and when he got there, the first thing he did was promptly throw up. He missed the bin by about three feet, which was a shame, but he wasn’t about to beat himself up over it. Looked like someone had beat him to that. Literally.

Upon finishing throwing up the contents of his stomach onto the hospital floor, he flopped back down onto the mattress, unsurprised to find it particularly uncomfortable. Hospital beds were rarely a luxury, he found.

A few minutes later, a nurse came in and promptly located a mop, after calling a doctor in.

Frank stared blankly at the doctor as he explained that Frank had sustained a concussion last night, which would explain the lack of memory of how he got here and why there was a piece of him missing.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Sure.” He mumbled, not liking how much he was sweating.

“God Frank, I think this is the third time this year I’ve had to see you.” The doctor shook his head, apparently disappointed.

Frank didn’t see what was so bad there: he was paying, wasn’t he? His poor decision making skills were keeping this motherfucker in business.

“Okay, but I think I have a fever.” He said, knowledgeably.

“And I think you sustained a minor head injury.” The doctor replied, drily.

“That too.”

“The diner guy and the other kid left, but Mikey’s still here. Shall I go and tell him you’re awake?”

Frank hadn’t been particularly listening, but when he processed the doctor’s words he sat up quickly - immediately regretting this decision when he felt a dizzying rush of blood to his head. “What other kid?” He managed.

“You know, Mikey’s older brother, I think.”

“He was here?” Frank asked, eyes widening a little.

“Yeah, he stayed here from when they brought you in until about ten minutes ago.”

“When… When did they bring me in?”

The doctor looked down at his watch. “About eight, maybe nine hours ago.”

Frank stared at him, before slowly slumping back against the cushions.

“I’ll go and get Mikey.” The doctor said, and Frank hardly acknowledged him, too deep in thought.

He was resting his head back against the pillow when he caught sight of something on the table.

A Rubix cube.

He’d completed it five times by the time Mikey arrived.

 

“Got any ghosts to hunt, old man?”

“Are you kidding?”

“What?”

“You’re not going ghost hunting until you stop being an accident-prone fuckwit.”

“So, never then?”

Frank scowled at Mikey, who had decided to chip in for one final blow. Ever since he’d gotten out of hospital he and the old man had been aggressively expressing their concern in the form of relentlessly tag teaming his ass. They were in the back of the diner, Frank lying on the sofa; Mikey anxiously pacing and Death materialising here and there.

“Aw c’mon guys…” He began, although he had neither the strength nor the right to get indignant, because a) he was in severe pain whilst waiting for the painkillers he’d just taken to kick in, and b) he was an accident-prone fuckwit and would probably never change. Or at least, not in the three days since the accident.

Three days. Three fucking days. It felt like three years. Frank was bored out of his goddamn mind. He hadn’t been going to school or working, and so with nothing to take his mind off the pain, his days had been filled with both the agony of idleness and a large ghost shaped hole in his side.

He’d called the principal to explain why he was breaking his promise, which he didn’t feel particularly sorry for but had to at least pretend. He was going back to school tomorrow, which he was dreading almost as much as he was dreading having to see Gerard again.

According to Mikey it had been Gerard who had somehow found him - and he had also stayed with Frank for the whole night - but Frank didn’t remember a thing, which was worrying. He remembered finding out that the ghost may be hostile toward Gerard, which prompted his hot headed idiocy to play up, causing him to go on a ghost hunt and get himself knocked unconscious on a gravestone. Not the first time; hopefully (but unlikely to be) the last. He thought he could remember trapping the ghost in a pen, but he couldn’t find the pen. He’d even gone back to the graveyard but there was no trace.

That was concerning too.

But after that everything was completely hazy. He hardly remembered a thing from that night.

That was possibly even more concerning.

“Frank,” Mikey began, with just a hint of impatience. “Do one more stupid thing and I will personally see that you are pushed in front of a moving vehicle; which vehicle depending on how greatly you fuck up.”

“So like, bike being a minor mess, and a train being a major fucking-kill-me-now type thing?”

“A train death would be too quick for you.”

Frank laughed, although stopping abruptly when it hurt his sides. “D’you wanna catch a movie tomorrow after school?”

Mikey shook his head. “Sorry man, it’s Gee’s birthday and I promised we’d get takeout and watch Akira for the millionth time.”

“Oh. Oh, right yeah.” Frank nodded, staring blankly at him whilst having an internal breakdown of a truly seismic magnitude. That being in the form of: shit shit shit I forgot it’s his fucking birthday. Fuck. We’re not even friends anymore, what the fuck am I supposed to-

Seeming to sense Frank’s brain collapsing in on itself with the strain of overworking his few remaining brain cells, Mikey put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Dude, it’s okay. As long as you don’t ruin his birthday like previous years it can’t be any worse.”

“Yeah, but I hated him in ‘previous years’…” Frank muttered, unable to resist the chance to initiate him a little, which Mikey didn’t particularly appreciate.

“Whatever, man. I thought you hated him now anyway.”

“Well yeah, I was pissed off that he was reading my shit, but to be honest… I got over that pretty quick. I know he wouldn’t have done it on purpose.”

Mikey stared at him incredulously. “Are you fucking serious? Then what’s all this shit about?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Apparently fucking not.”

“Mikes, I know when he’s going to fucking die.” Frank said, as clearly as he could, but struggling on the last word. It wasn’t something he liked to admit, as though if he didn’t voice it then it wasn’t true. “I can’t… I can’t even look at him.”

Mikey stared at him for a moment, before sighing, wearily. “I wish I could help you, Frankie.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” Frank repeated, beginning to feel drowsy. The medication finally seemed to be kicking in.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?” He got the impression it had taken himself a while to respond.

“Listen,” Mikey began, gently. “Why don’t you try and talk to him? Be honest.”

Frank blinked at him, before laughing. (Which was followed by instant pain and regret.) “What, tell him I know when he’s gonna die? Yeah, ok. Sure, I’ll make sure to do that, but you better rescue me from the mental hospital that’s quickly approaching my future.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Mikey. Way. Think about it for a moment, please. This-“ He gestured around the diner, mainly to Death, who pointed at his own chest, questioningly, as though offended to be included on the subject of clinical insanity. “This ain’t normal. To you and me and the old man over there, sure. But to a normal guy, hell no.”

Mikey didn’t say anything for a while, before finally replying, quietly, “Gerard isn’t a normal guy.”

And that was the end of that conversation. Frank had nothing to contradict that with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going away for a couple weeks but I might do some writing there, so I’ll update when I get back. Hope everyone has a good summer :)


	19. In Which Gerard Nearly Runs Frank Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank thinks he’s Peter Pan

It was Gerard’s birthday. Funny that.

He hadn’t realised until about twenty minutes into breakfast, when he started being buried in wrapped parcels. A solid 80% of them were things from the dollar store Mikey had perhaps a little too enthusiastically wrapped as an attempt to make his birthday less pathetic than last year. Having two friends - one of them being your little brother - sort of did that to you. Well, he had been looking forward to spending his birthday with three friends but that didn’t look like it was going to happen.

After mustering as much enthusiasm as he possibly could to thank his family for the presents, he took a deep breath and set off to hell. Or school. Whichever you choose to call it.

On his drive to school, he thought. A lot. He usually tried not to do that too frequently, but right now he couldn’t help it.

He thought about a large variety of things, ranging from entirely inconsequential - such as the state of the exchange rate in Vietnam - to I’d-rather-you-punch-me-in-the-face-than-bring-up-that-topic. The protagonist of the latter section being Frank.

Frank fucking Iero. That kid was ruining his life.

But he couldn’t help it. Every time he tried to think of something else, his mind travelled right back to Frank. It didn’t help that he hadn’t seen him since the incident, so all he could picture was him covered in blood, which wasn’t the nicest imagery to be driving through the gates of hell with.

Well, Gerard got halfway through the school gates before he finally found a distraction; that being in the form of him almost knocking down a kid. Said kid promptly fell, with a strangely familiar dramatic flair.

“Shit!” Gerard hit the breaks immediately, throwing open the door and jumping out. “Shit shit shit, I’m so sorry-“

He stopped his rapid apologies upon catching sight of the face of his victim. It explained the familiarity.

There it was again. Distractions didn’t work, apparently the universe was so cruel that it would literally throw Frank in front of his car, just to keep him on his poor, tortured mind.

“Shit.” He finished, staring down at Frank, crumpled on the curb, clutching his side, dramatically.

“Hey, I get that we’re not on the best terms but there’s no need to run me over.”

Gerard winced. _The devil really is at work here, huh?_

 

Frank stared up at Gerard, unable to believe his insane poor luck. Here he was, on his first day back at school, having resolved to avoid Gerard for as long as possible and barely two steps through the gate the fucker had already tried to run over him with his car. And the worst part was, as Frank angrily glared up at him, he scowled into his eyes and loved him more than ever.

_Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I am totally in love with this bastard. I’m gonna kill him._

He was so angry and in love that he didn’t even register the stinging pain in the wound in his side beginning to flare up having scraped against the curb.

“Jesus, Frank, I’m so sorry.” Gerard extended a shaky hand, his eyes full of fear and apology and sadness. Frank didn’t blame him. He’d been told that he could look pretty scary sometimes, especially when he’d nearly been run over by a goddamn car.

Frank batted his hand away, pushing himself up - now completely registering the wound in his side and stumbling on unsteady legs. Gerard’s arm was instantly around his shoulders, and though Frank’s instinct was to cuddle into him, he struggled away from him.

“Frank, just let me help you…” Gerard protested, weakly. “You’re hurt…”

“I’m fine.” He replied, turning away so he wouldn’t have to look at his beautiful face and running for his homeroom, repeatedly muttering “fuck” as he did so. All the things he wanted to say (including the great works of: _I miss you_ ; _happy birthday you loser_ and the epic but underrated _I love you_ ) on the tip of his tongue, but there to stay. He couldn’t say any of those things. It would just make things worse. If being a dick to him was the way to protect him, Frank could do that. It was as though he thought that if he disassociated himself from Gerard, Death wouldn’t come from him. Of course that was nonsense, but until Frank worked things out, he couldn’t handle being around him. It was too much.

“Nice work.” He heard Cara mutter, but he shut her out.

“It’s his birthday, you dick.” Hayley (of the first ghosts he befriended) groaned. She’d wanted them to be together since the very beginning of this whole ordeal.

“You’re fucking it all up.” Cara added, for that extra gut punch.

“Shut up!” He finally yelled, causing all the kids around him to look rather concerned. They were quite used to him, but he’d been away for a while, they had been hoping they wouldn’t have to deal with his weird shit anymore. “I know that, of course I know that.” He muttered, more quietly. “But how can I just act like nothing happened when I know what I know?”

“You could at least be nice.” Cara reasoned.

“He nearly ran me over!” Frank protested, not about to go down without a fight.

“Yeah, well he also stayed with you for the whole night when you got hurt. That shows how much he cares about you, even after how shittily you treated him.”

“I know… I don’t deserve him- Hey, mind your own fucking business.” He snapped at some freshmen who were staring at him. Clearly they weren’t used to him yet. They would be, given another year.

“Go apologise.”

“No.”

“Frank. Do it now.” Cara was using her stern voice. He hated when she did that. How was he supposed to ever say no to her when she did that?

“Uhhh, fine. Fine. God.” Frank dropped his backpack and sprinted out of the corridor and over to the car park. “Please be there please be there- _fuck_.” There was Gerard’s car. Gerard’s empty car. “Fucking shitting fuck.”

“Charming.”

Frank turned around and came face to face with Mikey Way, looking rather smug.

“Oh, hey.” He panted, trying to sound less out of breath than he was.

“Looking for someone?”

“No.”

Mikey raised an eyebrow.

“... Gerard nearly ran me over.”

Mikey stared at him for a moment, before proceeding to laugh his head off for around two minutes straight. “You guys really are a mess, huh?” He finally choked out.

“Yeah,” Frank shook his head, unable to resist smiling a little. “We really are.”

 

When Frank got home, he wandered aimlessly around the house, looking for something to occupy his mind so he wouldn’t have to keep constantly replaying his earlier encounter with Gerard in his head. He was rather unsuccessful.

Firstly, he tried watching TV, but when that didn’t work he played a game with himself _how much hair can I cut off that my dad won’t notice?_ (Spoiler: quite a lot. Frank Sr wasn’t particularly observant.) In the end, he ended up sprinting up and down the corridor until there was a loud slam of a door and his dad appeared in the hallway, with a look of weariness characteristic of anyone having to deal with a confused and angry Frank Iero.

“Frank.”

“Dad.”

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on or…?”

Frank hesitated a moment, before sighing and going over to sit on the sofa. It was an unconscious decision, likely sparked by the fact that all their serious conversations took place on that sofa. His dad followed him, sitting down next to him and patting his head, gently.

“It’s okay, you can tell me. I won’t be mad.”

“Thanks dad.”

“Unless it’s drugs. If it’s drugs I’ll be mad.”

“It’s not drugs, dad.” Frank said, laughing, before pausing. “Do cigarettes count?”

“Not if I don’t find them.” Frank Sr said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, let me try that again. _It’s not drugs, dad_.”

“Great.” His dad said, drily. “So what is it then?”

“It’s nothing really, I’m just… Me and Gerard kinda fell out. It was his fault first, but then I missed my opportunity to forgive him, and since then I’ve just been making everything worse and now I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Ah. That explains a lot.”

“It does?”

“You were so happy when you guys started becoming friends, I noticed, and you’ve been utterly miserable lately.”

“Ah. Yeah.” He smiled sheepishly.

“Listen, Frankie. It’s never too late to fix things. Just go apologise, and if he doesn’t accept it, keep doing it until he does.”

“Yeah.”

“Go now.”

“Huh? No, I don’t know… It’s late…” It was indeed 11pm, which would be a viable excuse if it wasn’t Gerard, destroyer of sleep, they were talking about.

“Just go, Frank. Trust me on this.”

Frank trusted his dad. He really did.

“Ok. I gotta go to Walmart first, though.”

 

Gerard was just about to go to sleep when a figure climbed in through his bedroom window. Aside from marvelling at his bad luck that the one time he didn’t sleep in the basement - it was being redone as it had been flooded - he was faced with this shit, his first instinct was to grab the nearest object and wield it like a sword, so here he was, facing a potential attacker with a mug of empty coffee with the words “ _Sorry I’m latte_ ” written on the side. (A birthday present from his oh-so-thoughtful dad who apparently didn’t know that he drank black coffee and not lattes. It’s the thought that counts, right?)

“Dude, chill, it’s just me.” When Gerard heard Frank’s carefree drawl, he immediately hit the light switch and stared at him in disbelief, still wielding the coffee cup.

“Frank?”

“C’est moi.”

“The hell, Frank? Do you think you’re Peter fucking Pan, what the fuck are you doing?”

Frank raised an amused eyebrow, before nodding at the coffee cup. “Could ask you the same thing, _Wendy_.”

Gerard dropped the mug on the bed, scowling. “I thought you were an attacker.”

“Oh yeah, and that would’ve stopped me.” Frank smirked and Gerard had the two conflicting impulses to punch him and kiss him at the same time. It was hurting his head. “I was thinking I really ought to teach you to defend yourself, but it seems you’ve got that covered. In fact, you should be teaching me.”

“Well- Hey, stop distracting me! What the fuck are you doing here?”

Frank hesistated, leaving Gerard a little smug. _Finally got him. Can’t hide behind smart remarks forever._ “I… I wanted to come say happy birthday.”

“So you decided to scale the building and tell me two minutes after it ended, instead of when I saw you earlier, when you still had twelve hours left.”

“Aw c’mon, I ran as fast as I could.”

Gerard scoffed, but now Frank had mentioned it, the kid was pretty out of breath. Goddamnit, he was falling for it again. “So?”

“Dude, did you want me to say it before or after you tried to run me over?”

He had a point. “You have a point.”

“So you gonna let me in or what?”

“What for?”

Frank grinned and held up a plastic Walmart bag. “Presents?”

Gerard rolled his eyes, trying to suppress a smile that really wanted to come out. “Did you even wrap them?”

“Bold of you to assume I would know how to do that.”

 

As it turned out, climbing through Gerard’s spare bedroom window definitely had its perks. He hadn’t been expecting Gerard to actually be in it, but now he was sat on his bed, it was definitely the preferable situation to be in. Gerard was rummaging around in his drawers, trying to find a shirt to wear, whilst Frank was sat on the bed of the guy he was in love with, even though he was beginning to feel the effects of sprinting there and climbing up the house and into his window on his wound.

Finally Gerard located a shirt and came to sit at the head of the bed, achingly close to Frank. Being slightly delirious from the pain in his side and tiredness, Frank made the smart decision to scoot closer and lay his head in Gerard’s lap. He didn’t care about the consequences anymore, he really couldn’t give less of a shit. He felt Gerard tense for a moment, and could sense his hand hovering above Frank’s head, as though unsure whether to push him away or stroke his hair.

“Frankie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing… just a little… just a little… Uh…” He struggled to find any words at all to describe how he was feeling. What was wrong? Where to even begin? “My side hurts…”

“I didn’t mean that.” Gerard said, with such gentleness that Frank felt himself begin to tear up. “But do you have any painkillers? Does it need clearing up?”

“I’m not sure…” Frank mumbled, burying his face in Gerard’s duvet.

“Frank, can you show me?” He’s so kind. I love him so much… “Frank? Can you hear me?”

“Mm? Yeah, yeah…”

“So, can you show me?”

“Don’t wanna…”

“Please, Frank. You gotta let me help you.”

Frank sighed, before reluctantly lifting his head and forcing himself to sit up. He looked up at Gerard and held his gaze, wishing he could fall into those eyes of his. “Okay.” He reached down slowly and lifted up his shirt so Gerard could see. He didn’t look down himself, there was no point.

He watched Gerard’s expression carefully, taking in the way his eyes flitted over his chest before finally landing on the wound, widening at the sight of it.

“Shit, Frankie, that looks bad.” He leaned forward, and Frank continued to watch his face, intently. He couldn’t look away if he tried.

“Nah, it’s not that bad.” He murmured, smiling a little.

“It looks bad.” Gerard protested, gently, reaching forward to caress the area around it with his fingertips.

“I don’t know…” Frank waited to feel the softness of his touch before seizing the opportunity and leaning forward to press his lips against Gerard’s.

He felt Gerard immediately tense against him, pulling away almost instantly.

“What?” He murmured, catching Gerard’s hand and holding it firmly against his side. It instantly began to throb but he didn’t release it.

“Frank-“ Gerard began, trying to remove his hand but failing.

“Don’t.” Frank interrupted, moving forward so he was almost sat in Gerard’s lap. “I don’t wanna talk, I just wanna-“ He didn’t bother finishing his sentence, merely leaning forward to kiss him again.

Frank didn’t know how to kiss, having had a strict ban against even touching other people, kissing wasn’t exactly his strong suit. But that didn’t particularly matter at this moment, when all he wanted to do was feel Gerard against him and to…

Okay, so he was blacking out in the middle of his first kiss. Not exactly his finest moment, but also tragically not his worst.

 

When Frank woke up, he was sat in Gerard’s car, drooling against the window. This was a situation he’d found himself to be in a little too often, recently.

“What the fuck…” He mumbled, not really a question, nor a statement, just a general vocalisation of his inner thoughts.

“I found your medication in your pocket.” Gerard said, from the driver’s seat, apparently by way of explanation.

“That literally explains nothing.” Frank whined, lifting his head a little too quickly and regretting it immediately. If he’d blacked out from pain earlier, now he was just drowsy thanks to the pills that had mostly killed it.

Frank didn’t look at Gerard, but he didn’t need to, to know that he was rolling his eyes.

“Fine. You came to give me some birthday presents, which I haven’t yet opened because you very helpfully blacked out on me.”

“Sorry for being such a nuisance.” Frank muttered dryly, not in the least sorry. In his current state he couldn’t quite remember what he’d even bought him but he knew it wasn’t good. After a pause, he added, “That all?”

“Yeah.” When Frank let out an unconvinced hum, Gerard continued. “You hardly left me any time to put my shirt on, let alone cause any more trouble than you’ve done this past month alone.”

“Okay, that’s not fair-“ Frank stopped, thought a little before giving in. “Fine, that’s completely fair.”

Gerard gasped dramatically, and Frank resisted elbowing him and restricted himself to growling “What?”

“You just let me win.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Well, to be fair…” Frank trailed off, before finally managing to regain his train of thought. “I am heavily medicated right now… So it’s hardly a win.”

“Whatever, I won, I don’t care under what circumstances.”

“You’d make a terrible sportsman.”

“Or an excellent one.”

Frank deliberated this for a moment, before looking Gerard up and down and coming to the conclusion that no, he very much would not. But alas, he had not the words nor the energy to argue - which had to be a first - so he let him win. Again.

This was happening too often at the moment.

_I really am rather pathetic… I really ought to…_

He didn’t get to finish scolding himself, because sleep returned and washed over him, stealing any words he’d been about to berate himself with.

 

Frank was light. Like, really light. Gerard got that he was small and all, but it wasn’t like he was very strong, so it really shouldn’t be this easy to carry him. Something he never thought he’d be doing, but here he was, carrying Frank up to his apartment complex. The poor kid had collapsed after kissing him - something which Gerard was firmly putting down to his clear deliciousness at the time - and after receiving a large dose of medication was now completely out. He was slightly worried he’d given him a little too much, but fully prepared to shift the responsibility onto Frank’s dad, who was now buzzing him in.

Gerard hung around in the doorway until he heard Frank’s dad coming down the steps, and looked up, giving him a weary smile.

“Hey, Frank.”

“Hey Gerard, I’m sorry about Frank, recently his talent for causing trouble has been particularly shining.” Frank Sr apologised, shaking his head a little as he spoke. “But I’m so glad he went to see you. After we talked and he left, I was a little worried he’d just gone off to the diner instead of yours.”

“Does he do that often?” Gerard raised an eyebrow, smirking a little.

“It’s his way of avoiding things he doesn’t want to do, I suppose.”

“Why did you tell him to come to mine, anyway?” Gerard asked, jokingly accusing. “You do know he climbed through the window and almost gave me a heart attack.”

“For God's sake.” Frank Sr groaned, though he didn’t look particularly surprised as he reached out to take his son off of Gerard, who handed him over a little reluctantly. He’d rather liked the way Frank’s breath had felt against his neck. “He always was rather fond of that.”

“Climbing through windows or giving people heart attacks?”

“Both.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Frankie.” Gerard laughed.

“So did you two manage to make up?”

Gerard had a quick flashback to Frank kissing him, before pushing it firmly out of his mind when he remembered he was talking to said boy’s father at that precise moment. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Had they? They must have, right? How else was Gerard supposed to interpret that? You don’t kiss people you still hate for reading your weird notebook and… Nearly running you over. “Why, did you know we were fighting?”

“He mentioned something about you two not getting along, and I thought I’d meddle a little.” Frank Sr had the grace to look a little sheepish. He looked a little like Frank when he pulled that expression, not that Frank did anything with grace or ever allowed himself to appear modest. “He’s been so miserable since you two fell out, and I’m sick of trying to get him to eat.”

Well, now his lightness made sense. Gerard felt guilty, despite the fact that he’d been the one trying to make up with Frank ever since they’d fallen out. That clearly spoke to how affected Frank had been by what had happened, though Gerard still didn’t know why and Mikey still refused to tell him. But instead of professing his guilt, he said, “I don’t entirely blame him, your cooking does suck.”

“Watch it, kid.” Frank Sr laughed. “Now get out of here already.”

“Gladly.” Gerard grinned, stepping back out the doorway. “Oh hey, what happened to his hair by the way?"

"He got bored." Frank Sr rolled his eyes.

"Figures. Well, see you around!”

“Drive safe! Thanks again for taking care of Frankie. I know what a pain he can be.”

The door closed.

“It’s my pleasure.” Gerard muttered, before turning and heading back to the car, only now allowing himself to relive what had happened earlier in his bedroom with Frank.

When he got back to the car, instead of driving home, he reached for the plastic Walmart bag that he’d brought with him, apparently out of fear it’d somehow go missing in his empty spare bedroom, to inspect the presents.

Among them was a dreamcatcher, a few comics, a seemingly random assortment of CDs (ranging from reggae to punk rock) and a coffee mug (mercifully lacking any kind of pun). He smiled a little at the thought that Frank seemed to know him so well, and was about to go home when he found something else in the back. It was a paper bag - that Frank had clearly made himself, from the shoddiness of the craftsmanship - and inside were five slips of paper along with a card.

The front of the card was a drawing of a dog, with the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY written in laughably atrocious bubble writing. Frank smiled at the drawing, although a little rough around the edges, finding it to be possibly the best thing he’d ever received. Inside it simply said:

_Hey._

_Sorry and all. Happy birthday. You’re really old. Actually we probably shouldn’t assocyate anymore so people don’t asume things about you._

_Sorry about the shitty presents. They’re the best I could do in a short time coz I’m an idiot and forgot how much you meant to me until you nearly killed me this morning. So thanks for that_

_xo frank_

_Ps you should defiantly consider the not assocyating thing_

_Ps2 you might be confused with the tokens but ask mikey its a tradition_

Gerard reread the card several times, his smile growing each time. Although it didn’t make a whole lot of sense and was riddled with spelling and punctuation errors - which usually made his stomach turn, but was all of a sudden rather charming - it suddenly meant the world to him to hear those words.

I’m sorry.

That’s all he’d wanted.

The five slips of paper turned out to be the “tokens” Frank’s card had referred to. From the almost indecipherable scrawl on each of them, Gerard could make out that they were “favour” tokens, valid from “now until the end of forever”. The words “use this carefully” were also scribbled on each one.

That was foreboding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kind words! Back from holiday now so will possibly or possibly not post more frequently who knows in the meantime have a good summer!


	20. In Which Gerard is Called Dave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank isn’t great at science

“You did _what_?”

“I know, I know but you don’t understand, Cara, he looked so good and-“

“That doesn’t mean you kiss him, you idiot!”

Frank groaned, lying back on the grass and looking up at his friend, who was staring at him incredulously from where she was perched on her own headstone. “I couldn't help it…”

Cara sighed, shaking her head before she looked down at him and smiled a little, like a parent watching their kid do something adorably stupid. “You’re cute.”

Frank winked at her, finding it ironic that the fifteen year old was being patronising to the seventeen year old. Well, at least, that’s the way he thought it was. Frank had never been entirely sure whether or not to consider her as ageing. It didn’t seem to make much sense to do so, when she looked exactly the same as the day he’d last seen her alive, but he didn’t like to think of her as not progressing at all whilst he continued to move forward. (If that’s what you could call whatever he was doing with his life.)

“But Frankie, what happened afterwards? Wasn’t it really weird? Did he kiss you back?”

Frank looked down and mumbled as quickly and incoherently as possible, “Ipassedout.”

“Huh?”

“I passed out.” He said, still quietly.

“You did what?”

“I. Passed. Out.”

Cara stared at him for a moment, before proceeding to laugh so violently that she fell off the headstone, whilst Frank just glared at her.

“It’s not funny.”

“Oh it is.”

“Fuck you. I didn’t even remember kissing him right away - I woke up in his car and he told me that I gave him the presents and then blacked out and I believed him. But when I got home, it suddenly hit me, and I stared at the wall for like an hour. I even called Death and asked if he’d take me a little early but he said no.”

“Shocker.”

“Too much paperwork apparently.”

“Makes sense.”

“Mm.”

“But Frank-“

“What?”

“What do you think that means; that he didn’t mention it?”

“I guess it means he was mortified and wishes it never happened.” Frank conceded, picking angrily at the grass. His cell phone buzzed again - probably Mikey, asking where he was - but he ignored it. He really should be in school right now, but the prospect of sitting in class right now seemed utterly pointless when faced with this rather pressing issue. The problem wasn’t even whether or not Gerard liked him; who gave a fuck about that when he was dying in the not-too-distant future? His exams were over - or at least, what he’d done of them - so it wasn’t like there was anything useful to do there. He really couldn’t understand why there was another week left.

“Or it means that he is scared of how much he liked it.” Cara suggested, and Frank scoffed.

“That’s ridiculous. Why the fuck would he pretend it didn’t happen if he liked me?”

“You do say he’s a weird guy. He definitely proved that when he came by that time.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Sure he’s weird, but he’s not completely irrational. Anyway, who even cares? That’s not even important right now, what’s important is figuring out how the fuck I’m gonna save him. I haven’t got a whole lot of time and I’ve got even fewer brain cells.”

“Well, you have mine too.”

“Still not looking good.”

“Hey!”

“You laugh at my pain, I point out that you’re just as dumb as me. That’s how this works.”

“Whatever, you should get back to school anyway.”

“Yeah, I know.” Frank pushed himself up, grimacing a little from the strain of doing so. “I’ll see you later, alright? I’m working tonight if you’re feeling strong enough to come by the diner.”

“We’ll see.” Cara shot him a weary but sympathetic smile, causing a twinge of fear to shoot through Frank’s heart. She was trying to hide it, but he could tell she was getting weaker and weaker. It wouldn’t be long before… No, now really wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. “Bye Frankie. I’ll think more about how to save your friend, okay? But I think…”

“What?”

“I think you should talk to your mum.”

Frank paused, before forcing himself to smile. “I’ll think about it.” He said, pulling on his blazer and turning to go.

“Phone!”

“Uhm, was just about to get it.” Frank said, quickly, spinning around to grab it before jogging out of the graveyard, yelling “Bye!” over his shoulder, hearing only a faint response.

 

“You’re late again, what the fuck were you thinking?” Mikey greeted Frank, who had just climbed through the window into their chemistry class, where they were apparently conducting an experiment.

“Aren’t I lucky this class is on the ground floor?” Frank answered cheerfully, rolling up his sleeves and reaching for the spare pair of goggles Mikey had set aside for him. It touched him a little, that Mikey had still had faith that he would show up even after he’d ignored all of his texts.

“Do you want to spend your life in detention?”

“Yeah, that’s the dream.” Frank replied, dryly, observing the Bunsen burner with mild disinterest. “What’re we doing?”

“ _I_ was going over flame tests, like we’d been asked at the beginning of the lesson, wherein you decided to ditch me with all these people I hate.” He gestured around the room, and Frank followed the gesture, feeling a little guilty when he found that he too wasn’t the biggest fan. Mikey generally got along with most people at an arm’s length, but this class especially irked him, and Frank could see why. Most of the people there were the kind who had completely ignored them up until sophomore year, but were suddenly their best friends when Cara died. It was as though they’d wanted in on their grief, even though they’d been cold to the three of them at best whilst she was alive. So it was fair to say that neither Frank nor Mikey were the biggest fans of this class in particular.

“Sorry dude, I wanted to see Cara.”

“And it couldn’t wait?”

“Not really… It’s cool though.” It very much wasn’t, but Frank didn’t really want to get into the details with Gerard’s little brother. “What d’you want me to do?”

“Pass me the sodium.”

“You got it.”

“That’s magnesium.”

“Isn’t that what you said?” Frank feigned ignorance, instead passing him the one that he now saw was rather clearly labelled SODIUM.

Mikey rolled his eyes, taking the powder and holding it over the flame.

“Pretty.” Frank remarked, flatly.

“Be sure to write that in your test, I bet that’ll get you full marks.”

“You mean the test I _totally_ showed up for?”

“Yeah that’s the one.” Mikey sighed, neatly noting down the colour change in his textbook.

“You know what they say, can’t fail the test if you don’t take it.”

“Literally no-one says that. Ever.”

“I just did.”

“You’re impossible. Pass the magnesium. Not sodium. Mag-ne-si-um. Want me to spell it?”

“Alright, alright, chill, I’m getting the fucking _mag-ne-si-um_.” Frank handed him the magnesium - subtly making sure to double check the label just in case he got it wrong again. He’d never hear the end of that.

“Well done.”

“Oh shut up.”

Mikey smirked a little, silently conducting the test for a few moments before speaking again, slowly. “Hey Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we talk about the, uh… Incident?”

“Which one?” Frank asked, earnestly.

“That one.” Mikey replied, gesturing to his own side, where Frank’s injury was.

“Oh. That one. What about it?”

“You never really explained, like… What the fuck happened.” Mikey seemed to give up searching for sensitive words halfway through the sentence. Frank couldn’t exactly blame him. There was only so much sensitivity him and his dumb stunts warranted.

“That’s ‘cos I wasn’t exactly sure myself at first. I’ve slowly began to piece the night back together, but it’s still fairly hazy. What I do know is that I was hunting a ghost.”

“What ghost? Death doesn’t give you jobs in the middle of the night.”

“He didn’t wanna give it to me.”

“Why not?”

Frank avoided Mikey’s gaze, busting himself with sorting the equipment into a neat line. “I think the ghost was seeking out Gerard.”

“Huh?” Mikey asked, abruptly, dropping the container of magnesium oxide he’d been holding. It smashed on the floor, and the white powder covered his shirt and the ground beneath him.

“Dude, careful.” Frank said, a little belatedly, reaching out to brush the powder off of his shirt, aware half of the class was now staring, but not really caring. Luckily the teacher was engaged in a conversation with a group of students - probably completely unrelated to the practical - so he didn’t notice the mess they’d just made. “I’ll get a dustpan and brush.” He started toward the storage cupboard on the other side of the room, but was stopped by Mikey grabbing his sleeve.

“Hold on. What do you mean the ghost is seeking him out?”

“Was.” Frank corrected him, gently extracting his sleeve from Mikey’s grip. “I caught it, and trapped it in a pen, but I don’t remember where the pen went. I didn’t bring it with me, but it wasn’t there when I went back to find it.”

“Huh, that’s weird.” Mikey said, still looking troubled.

“Hey, it’s okay. The main thing is that it can’t hurt him anymore.”

“Yeah…” Mikey nodded, before seemingly coming back to his senses. “I can’t believe you did that, Frank.”

“Did what?” Frank asked, a little concerned. What had he done wrong now? Was there no end to his idiocy?

“You risked your life to protect him.”

“Pfft, I hardly risked my life…” Frank attempted to deflect it, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden and really wanting to go and get a dustpan and brush. He’d never wanted to tidy up so badly before.

“Frank, you could’ve died out there if we hadn’t found you. All this time I thought Gerard saved your life, but it turns out you saved his too.”

“How was I to know I’d get so hurt…” Frank mumbled.

“You should tell him!”

“Yeah, and you should cover yourself in gasoline and light a cigarette.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we were coming up with awful ideas.”

“C’mon Frank, he should know what you did for him.”

“What, that I saved him from a fucking ghost? Firstly, I don’t want him to think I’m a lunatic, and second I don’t wanna scare the shit out of him. _Hey, Gee, by the way, I see ghosts and one of them wants you dead. Sleep well tonight!_ ”

Mikey rolled his eyes, but had to concede that Frank did in fact, for once, make a valid point. “I wish you could tell him, though.”

“It’s fine, I’ll happily remain an unsung hero.” Frank said, dryly. “Now can we please clean up this shit before I get into even more trouble, because I’m one hundred percent getting blamed for it.”

“Since when were you worried about getting into trouble?” Mikey smirked.

“Since you reminded me how hellish detention is. Now get cleaning.”

 

Staples was particularly empty that day. Ray was on his day off, and Gerard didn’t really know anyone else working that shift - probably because his first day on the shift he’d worn the wrong name badge so everyone had thought his name was Dave and came to the conclusion he was being an asshole when he didn’t respond to it. To make things worse, he’d been so embarrassed that he had pretended that was his name and kept wearing the badge on Friday shifts. So for the remaining two hours, his name was Dave.

“Hey _Dave_ ,” Gerard froze when he heard Frank’s voice from beside him. How Gerard hadn’t noticed him approach he had no idea. “d’you know where I could find a new best friend?”

Gerard looked around, theatrically. “Not in aisle three, that’s for sure. Why, don’t you have one?” He asked, turning to see Frank stood in front of him, still in his uniform. If you could call his usual untucked shirt and loose tie a uniform. He inspecting a rather pricey guillotine that was way out of his price range, with the appearance of someone who was seeing something for the first time.

“Yeah, but his brother’s a prick, so I’m on the market for a new one.”

“What a coincidence, my brother’s best friend is a prick too!”

“Funny that.” Frank smiled a little lopsidedly, and Gerard looked quickly away so he didn’t get caught staring. Why was he so attractive? Wasn’t that unfair?

“What did you actually want then, Frank?”

“Well, I was just in the neighbourhood-“

“You live like two miles in the other direction-“

“To ask if you wanted to go to a theme park with me and Mikes tomorrow? We got a spare ticket.”

“How come? You don’t have any other friends.”

“We do, she’s just a little busy being dead.”

“Jesus Frank.”

“What?” Frank asked, innocently.

“Well when you put it that way, how can I say no?”

“Were you going to?”

“... No.”

“Cool. Well, I guess Mikey will tell you the details.” Frank said, shoving his hands in his pockets and making as though to leave.

“Wait!” Gerard blurted out, without thinking. Frank turned, raising an eyebrow. “Well, my break is just coming up, d’you want some coffee?”

“Sure, I could go for some coffee. You know, while I’m in the neighborhood and all.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Just let me finish stacking these then.”

“Sure, d’you want some help?”

Gerard blinked at him in surprise. “No, no, that’s alright. I’m almost done.” He made pretty shoddy work of the last few in his hurry to get onto his break. He’d originally been planning to skip it, since he had nothing to do anyway during it, but now he suddenly didn’t want to miss a second of it.

 

“Sorry about the shitty coffee,” Gerard apologised, setting two mugs of coffee on the table. “There aren’t really any coffee shops around here.”

“That’s fine.” Frank said, smiling a little. “I’m used to shitty coffee.”

“You always get the cheap stuff, huh?”

“Well, that and I make shitty coffee.”

Gerard laughed, feeling that familiar warmth of being around Frank, like he’d begun to do before they’d fallen out. “I’m glad I didn’t ask you to make it now.”

“Yeah, well you’re not so great yourself.” Frank muttered, taking a sip and grimacing.

“That bad?” Gerard asked, a little disappointed. He wasn’t good at many things, but he’d thought at least making coffee was one of them.

“No, I just hate being wrong.” Frank said, still looking genuinely irritated. Gerard, on the other hand, was relieved, and slightly proud of himself. Frank liked his coffee. Why did that mean something? It shouldn’t mean anything.

“How come you work at a diner when you’re so awful at making coffee then? Isn’t that, like, half of what you do?”

Frank shrugged. “I don’t get any complaints.”

“That’s because you’re scary.” Gerard pointed out.

“I am not.” Frank denied, adamantly, to which Gerard just scoffed.

“Are you kidding? Half of the people walking out look like they’ve seen a ghost!”

“There’s a possibility they did.” Frank mumbled, taking another sip.

“Yeah, right. You could try, you know, smiling whilst you serve people.”

“I don’t get tipped well enough to smile and do my job at the same time, are you kidding? And hey, I didn’t see you smiling whilst you were putting those boxes away!”

“Well, that’s different. That’s a pretty mundane task.”

“And putting plates on tables isn’t?”

“I suppose it is, when you put it that way. I don’t know, I guess I thought since you actually get along with your coworkers you might enjoy it more.”

“You don’t?”

“Well, half of them think I’m called Dave, so not really, no.” Frank laughed at this, tapping his fingers restlessly on the table. Gerard thought perhaps he wasn’t capable of sitting still for even a moment. He was rather guilty of that himself, actually. “Speaking of my coworkers, though, I was wondering if you’d do me a favour?”

“What’s that?”

“Well, one of the guys who works here is leaving after a pretty long time, so they’re throwing him a party. I don’t really know too many people, and Ray can’t come, so I was hoping you would come with me?” Frank raised his eyebrows, which caused Gerard to panic a little and keep talking, even though he knew he really should shut up at this point. “It won’t be too bad, we can just have a couple drinks and leave after a while, we don’t have to stay long. And they won’t mind you drinking, they always let me drink.” _Stop talking just shut up._ “Last time-“

“I’ll come.” Frank saved him from telling an incredibly dull anecdote from the last staff party. “When is it?”

“Next week. Friday.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll come. For you.” He winked, and Gerard rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, Frank.”

“No problem.”

“Hey, Dave, did you finish up on those boxes or did you need some help?”

Gerard and Frank both looked up to see Shaun, one of Gerard’s coworkers, walk in and open the cupboard.

Gerard avoided Frank’s gaze, wanting to sink into his chair with embarrassment. But still, he didn’t correct him. “Thanks Shaun, but I got them done before I started my break, actually.”

“Good… Good….” _Fuck off, you’re not my boss._ “Hey, where’s my mug?”

“How should I-“ Gerard stopped himself and began again with, “Which one’s that?”

“Blue. Has my name on the bottom- Hey, that’s it!” He pointed at the mug Frank was currently drinking out of.

“What, this one?” Frank asked, innocently.

“Yeah. That’s mine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. So, can I have it then?” Shaun asked, though it wasn’t much of a question.

“I’m sorry, I’m kinda already drinking out of it.” Frank dropped the act, and sounded genuinely apologetic. “But tell you what, I’ll clean it real good after, how does that sound?”

“Sounds like I want my mug.”

“Hey, come on, there’s like a whole cupboard full of ‘em. You can just take ‘em. That’s what I did.” Frank said, starting off diplomatic but ending with too much of a smirk to be considered good humoured.

“Yeah, no, I want my mug.”

Gerard stared at Shaun in disbelief. He had never really spoken to the guy, so he should hardly be surprised that he was such a dick, but he had no idea he was this unreasonable. They swapped mugs all the time - in fact, Shaun was always using Gerard’s without asking. He was making even Frank look diplomatic, so there definitely had to be something wrong.

Frank gave Gerard a sidelong glance; seemed to gauge that Gerard really wanted him to stop arguing and did something completely unexpected. He stood up, went over to the sink and tipped out the remainder of his coffee, before handing the mug to Shaun. “Happy?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, ‘cos that was some damn good coffee I just wasted to give you this ugly fuckin’ mug.”

_Aw, he was doing so well. Oh well, at least he called my coffee good._

“If it’s so ugly why'd you take it in the first place, huh?”

“I thought no-one would miss it.” Frank retorted, and Gerard stood up quickly.

“Okay, time to go. Bye Shaun.” You prick. He grabbed Frank’s arm and dragged him back into the store.

“Okay, I know what you’re gonna say, but cut me some slack, that guy was a dick.” Frank immediately began to defend himself.

“I was gonna say thanks.”

“Huh?”

“Well you tried to settle that peacefully for me, and I appreciate that.”

“Wasn’t for you…” Frank mumbled.

“Oh yeah? You’re telling me you would’ve been that diplomatic if I hadn’t been there?”

“... Whatever.”

Gerard smiled, that warm feeling returning. “Well, I better get back to work.”

“Yeah, yeah sure. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, Frankie.” _Wow, I guess he’s finally maturing._

“See you around, Dave.”

_Nope, still a child._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit 20 chapters wtf thanks for sticking around guys, hope you’re having a good summer sorry for any mistakes I'm uploading this at like 3am because why sleep when you can do that


	21. In Which Frank Phones his Dead Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang headbang

The following week of school passed torturously slowly, with Frank showing up on time for every lesson, and passing every second of said lesson not by making paper hats out of sheets or by drawing unflattering caricatures of the teachers (something he’d been scolded for in the past) but by sitting quietly. Yes, Frank Iero, infamous for his short attention span and dangerously low generosity regarding giving fucks, that Frank Iero was making an effort in class. Or at least appearing to.

It was a little too late, but it was better than nothing at all, the bewildered teachers supposed.

What they failed to realise was that Frank’s expression of intense concentration was not owing to their words, but to his own manic thoughts of saving Gerard. No matter what angle he approached it from, he could think of no other solution. Of course, there was no way he could kill someone, so he figured he’d simply have to find a replacement for his 100th name.

Easier said than done.

Nobody written in his notebook was scheduled to die until at least six months after Gerard was supposed to, so no luck there. That meant that he was somehow supposed to find someone to take his place. His current plan was to target the elderly, but unfortunately the average lifespan of a human was irritatingly high these days.

“God, this would be so much easier in the thirteenth century…” Frank muttered, frustratedly, starting a list of possible people.

“Excuse me?” Miss Casey, his elderly Friday third period history teacher asked, looking understandably perplexed.

“I was just saying the thirteenth century was much more interesting for this topic.” Frank said, absently, not paying much attention to his own nonsensical words or her reaction to them.

“We’re covering civil rights.”

“Exactly. Going back to the very roots.” Frank replied, writing another name beneath the first.

“Yes, just several centuries before America was founded.”

“That’s what you think.” Frank mumbled, before looking up quickly. “Hey, quick question.”

“By all means.” She agreed, wearily. The class shifted restlessly, their attention only held by the likely prospect the weird Iero kid was about to do something weird. Mikey - sat on the other side of the class to Frank - watched, absolutely certain that Frank was about to do something weird.

“How’s your health?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Any history of heart disease in the family?”

“No…”

“Diabetes?”

“No. Frank, what’s this-“

“When was the last time you saw a doctor?”

“A few months ago for a cough. Frank, what’s all this for?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Frank began to cross through her name, before reconsidering, and stopping. “I’m done. Let’s go back to the civil rights thingy.”

The class let out a collective sigh of disappointment.

“Wonderful. So, who can tell me who- Frank?”

As soon as she’d started talking, Frank had gotten up and was now halfway through the window.

“Oh, don’t mind me. It’s a bit modern for me. Prefer the fourteenth century.”

“Thirteenth.” Mikey corrected him from across the class.

“Thirteenth.” Frank corrected himself from the window. He threw his bag through it, before going over to Miss Casey. “I’m sorry about this, but I have been very good this week. I just have somewhere to be.” He gave her hand a quick pat, just in case, and was half relieved and half disappointed to find that she had another fifteen years. “Damn modern medicine.” He muttered as he climbed out the window, grabbed his bag and headed off in search of his car.

He was switching on the engine when the passenger door opened, and Mikey Way climbed in.

“What’re you doing there, kid?” Frank asked, bemusement prompting a little smile.

“Following my dumbass friend.”

“Whatever for?”

Mikey shrugged. “I prefer the thirteenth century too.”

Frank watched with amusement as his friend made a big show of putting on his seatbelt, probably hinting at Frank to do the same. To show his gratitude, he did just that. “The old fucker’s gonna be on your case.” He warned him.

“Good, it’s about time he learned my name.”

“He don’t know it?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kinda overshadowing?”

“No, but it would explain why everything looks so dark all the time.”

“That’s just Jersey.”

“Right you are.”

“So, Mr Civil Rights Expert, where are we headed?”

“New York. I need to talk to my mum. Also I really fancy some fries.”

“You wanna drive like half an hour to get fries when you work at a goddamn diner?”

“Uhm, have you tried our fries? They taste like shit.”

“That’s part of their charm…”

 

They got about 0.01 miles closer to New York before they stopped.

“This isn’t New York.” Mikey said, so earnestly that he could almost have been serious.

Frank looked around, theatrically. “No, really? For god’s sake, Frank Junior, you can’t even get this right. Someone hand me a map for the love of god!”

“No need to beat yourself up over it.” Mikey muttered, dryly, winding down the window and putting out a cigarette on the car door.

“Hey, watch the paintwork, kid.”

“What paintwork?”

Frank had to concede that this was a valid point, as his car was indeed a piece of shit and calling what was left of the red paint on it “paintwork” was a criminal misuse of the English language. “Well anyway, I’m aware we’re still in Jersey, I just had to make a quick stop to get some stuff.”

“Whatever it is, it better include popcorn.”

“On it.” Frank hopped out of the car and took the stairs up to his apartment two at a time. Once inside he quickly located a bag of popcorn; the most formal clothes he owned (which wasn’t saying much); a bag of quarters and a pair of shades, before hurrying back out to the car.

“So what’s the plan?” Mikey asked, as Frank threw his stuff in the back and started the engine. “Also chuck me the popcorn.”

“Get it yourself, I’m driving.”

“Alright, Mr Lawful Only-When-It’s-Convenient.” Mikey huffed indignantly and reached around the seat to grab a bag, before his attention returned to Frank.

“The plan is to go to New York; eat some fries; get a donut or ten; convince the Old Man to let me talk to my mom; talk to my mom; go see my dad and his band play and then stay the night in the cheapest place we can find.”

“I didn’t know we were gonna see your old man play.” Mikey exclaimed, seeming pleased by the surprise.

“Yeah, I figured it’s been a while, but it does mean we’ll have to stay somewhere because it’ll probably end late and then we’ll end up getting drinks and I’ll get wasted and you can’t drive.”

“So what’re the fancy clothes for?”

No matter how mockingly Mikey said the word “fancy” Frank still counted that as a victory for his fashion choice. It was hard to locate anything in his - or his dad’s - wardrobe that aptly fit the description “fancy” in any way, shape or form. “Well it’s Gerard’s work party thing I’ve gotta go to tomorrow evening, and I’ve kinda got some things to take care of tomorrow in the city, so I’ll be cutting it fine. So I thought I might as well bring them and I can get changed in the car.”

Mikey frowned at “got some things to take care of”. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“It’s fine, chill.” Frank reassured him, in probably the least reassuring way he thought he possibly could, before proving himself wrong and somehow making it worse by winking and adding, “I'm a professional.”

Mikey groaned. “Just… Don’t get yourself ripped open again, please.”

“Hey, that’s what you’re here for.”

“So I’m your bodyguard now?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of human shield, but call it what you want.”

Mikey sighed, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the dashboard. “Whatever. I’ve realised there’s no reasoning with you. You’re too stupid to listen to any sense. And I’m even dumber. I’m gonna spend my hideously long life covering for your idiocy.”

“There’s my human shield.” Frank patted Mikey’s shoulder, as condescendingly as he possibly could.

Mikey just rolled his eyes and turned up the radio for Bohemian Rhapsody. After a few moments he said, “So I get the fancy clothes, but what’s with the shades?”

“You’ll see.” Frank replied, vaguely, leaning forward to turn up the volume. “I love this one. Who’d‘ve thought the word “mama” would be the most memorable lyric in a song about life and death, huh? Only Queen could do that…”

“I don’t know, maybe someone else could make it work too someday.”

“Unlikely.”

A minute later they were both headbanging along to what is widely agreed to be the most headbangable song ever written, in true Wayne’s World style.

 

Bohemian Rhapsody was on the radio, but Gerard couldn’t bring himself to sing along. Something was definitely wrong.

Ray was lying on his bed, passionately air guitaring along to the solo, and Gerard was sat at his desk, drawing mindlessly. That is to say, he was stuck in a cycle of drawing Frank, rubbing it out and then drawing him again.

“What’s up, Gee?” Gerard looked up and it seemed Ray had finished pretending to play Madison Square Garden on his back and had come to stand next to him. “I thought things were going well with him again?”

Gerard sighed, putting down his pencil. “It’s not about Frank.”

Ray sat down on the foot of his bed and spun the chair around so Gerard was facing him. “So what is it then?”

Gerard shrugged, immediately looking to his hands for an answer but finding only ink stains and chewed fingernails, which unsurprisingly didn’t provide much insight. “Okay, think of it like this. You know how people say “today isn’t my day”, right?”

Ray nodded.

“Well, let’s just say it hasn’t been “my day” for quite some time, and I’m wondering if it’s ever coming.”

Ray thought about this for a while. “Has it ever been your day?”

Gerard raised an eyebrow.

“I dunno, I just feel like it’s never really anyone’s day. Unless it’s like, your wedding or something. And even then it can suck. My dad’s wedding was the worst day of his life.”

“How come?”

“Well, it coincided with the day my mum left him.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it.”

“But I remember once asking him what the best day of his life was, thinking he’d say the day I was born, or when he met my step mum or something.”

“I’m gonna guess it wasn’t.”

“You’re a smart one, aren’t you? Yeah, it wasn’t. He told me that he’d loved my mum, but he hadn’t been honest with himself. He knew that she wasn’t good for him, but he’d ignored it. And so he said that when he started being honest with himself and others was the day he could finally start to breathe again and begin to be happy. Obviously he’s not always happy, but it helps not to live with shit hanging over you.”

“Huh.” Gerard frowned, thinking this over. “I think he may be right… Thanks, Ray, I-“ He stopped when he looked up and realised his friend was back to air guitar. Laughing, he reached over and turned up the volume. He really did love that song.

 

“Why don’t we come here more often?”

“Uhm, well you tend to go to class usually and I’m too lazy to come out here.”

Frank and Mikey were currently sat in Dunkin’ Donuts; Mikey enjoying being in the city for the first time in a while and Frank procrastinating talking to his mother. That is, if he even got to. Technically his three calls were up, but he was hoping he might be able to convince the Old Man to give him one last one. He really needed his mother right now, in a way he’d never known he’d need her when he’d used up all his calls pretty uselessly.

The first time had been a week after she’d died; he couldn’t help himself knowing he could talk to her with only a quarter, missing her so badly. The second time was after Cara had died two years ago, and he’d needed her comfort so direly after he’d fallen out with Mikey and his dad’s awkward but well-meaning support hadn’t helped much.

And the last time was the most useless and regrettable of all. Two months after his second call, he’d called her again. Completely wasted. Not his smartest decision.

After that he knew that he hardly deserved another call, but this was probably the most important of all of them. He hadn’t heard her voice in two years, and would likely never again after this. But it was worth it. If he hadn’t been ready to let go of her before he was now, if it meant she could help him save his friend. She was dead, as Cara so sensitively liked to point out, when arguing that he didn’t spend enough time in the waking world. His mother was gone, but Gerard wasn’t yet, and he had the power to keep him in this world.

And yet, with all that being said, here he was sat in a grimy Dunkin’ Donuts, completely avoiding her.

“Yeah, that’d be why.” Mikey mumbled, around a chocolate sprinkle donut. “You know you’re gonna have to talk to her eventually, man.”

“Yeah, I know.” Frank murmured, not making any effort to move.

“Frank…”

“Yes, yes, I know! Just let me finish this- Hey!” Frank stared at his donut, wrenched from his grasp and seconds from entering Mikey’s mouth. And then it was gone. “What the fuck, dude? That was mine!”

“There, it’s finished. Now go call your dead mom before I do it myself and tell her what a spineless coward her son is.”

“Fine! Just to shut you up…” Frank sulked, aware that he was carrying the air of a petulant child with him as he hauled himself up out of his chair and stormed out of the shop.

“I’ll wait in the car, okay?” Mikey called after him, looking irritatingly triumphant.

“Yeah, yeah… Smug bastard.” Frank muttered, reluctantly heading in the direction of Death’s Payphone.

 

Death’s Payphone was located by the garbage bins outside a Subway, and tastefully decorated with all manner of anatomically incorrect crude drawings. (Many of which could be credited to Frank himself; bored on a job or just feeling like being a menace to society without any of the tedious legal repercussions because the police had no jurisdiction over this Payphone. Or at least, not when it was being used on Death’s behalf, which was, admittedly, very little of the time.)

The handle was searing hot, almost as though it was the door to Hell itself. (Unfortunately, it wasn’t. That was located somewhere in Croydon, where it was opened so frequently the door handle needed constant replacing.) Nevertheless, Frank pushed it down and went inside, leaving (almost) all trepidation outside. He reasoned there was no point being cautious about this.

It was always best, he found, to be reckless in the face of Death. The old man appreciated idiocy in all of its many glorious forms.

“It’s been a while…” He muttered, fishing a quarter out of his bag, slotting it in and dialling the old man’s number. It rang five times. Nothing. “Come on, pick up, you old fucker…” Five more times. “I swear to god, old man-“

“Hello?”

“Thank fuck.”

“Who’s this?”

“Shirley Temple. I believe we spoke on the phone last week?”

“What do you want, kid? Why are you in New York?”

“Good questions, good questions. Here’s a better one, though. Could you connect me to my mother? Please and thank you.”

“What? Frank, we’ve been over this. Three calls only. I’m sorry, but that was the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m hearing you. But here’s a counter argument: I was six when I made that deal and I have come to have serious doubts regarding its legal implications, so… Connect me?”

“Frank-“

“Pretty please?”

“Frank, there’s nothing I can do. You used up your last call.”

“Technically vodka used up my last call.”

The old man sighed. “My hands are tied here.”

“Then how’d you answer the phone?”

“Ha. Ha. Go home, Frank.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. You can’t break the rules because Satan will cast you into a pit of eternal suffering yada yada yada, but can you at least put me on with the Man Upstairs?”

“I don’t know…”

“Please. I really need to talk to my mom right now.” Frank said, a little softly. He heard the old man sigh again, and knew he’d won.

“Hold on.”

“Thank you thank you thank you-“ Frank quickly dug in his bag for another quarter, shoving it in and waiting for the Man Upstairs to come to the phone.

“Frankie?”

“Yes, hello, just let me explain-“

“You get fifteen minutes, not a second more. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am.” Frank said, quickly, about ready to devote his entire existence to her in gratitude. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the most godly person, so that didn’t seem likely.

The line was silent for a minute, before he heard his mother’s faint voice, and his knees immediately went weak.

“Frankie?”

“Hey mom…” He half-whispered, all of a sudden at a loss for words. It had been two years since he’d heard his mother’s voice (whilst sober). That was a long time to be out of contact with the person who was supposed to love you the most in the world.

“Hey Frankie.” He could almost see her smile, and that was it. His legs gave way entirely and he slumped against the wall, sliding down until he was huddled into a corner, clutching the receiver as tightly as though it were her hand.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He choked out, struggling to keep the receiver against his ear with his hands shaking so much. He had to hold it in both hands to stop it from slipping from his grasp. “So, so much…”

“I know, I’ve missed you too. So, so much.”

“It’s just… It’s been so hard.”

“You’re doing so well.” She murmured, comfortingly.

“No I’m not. I’m messing everything up. I’ve messed everything up, mom. I don’t know what to do anymore.” He hadn’t expected to break down this quickly, but here he was, thirty seconds in and already sobbing down the phone. _You need to pull yourself together, Frank. You can’t spend your remaining time with her like this. Get it together._ But he just couldn’t seem to. Hearing her voice had ripped his heart to shreds, and it seemed almost beyond repair.

“Breathe, Frankie. Just breathe, it’s going to be alright.”

At this he hastily gulped in a breath of air, before shakily breathing out, and doing the same over and over until he began to return to himself.

“Well done, Frankie, you’re going to be alright. Now, take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”

As instructed, Frank took a deep breath before letting it go and telling her everything.

Ten minutes later, he was out of words - and nearly out of time.

 _Please don’t cut me off please don’t cut me off_ he silently begged the Man Upstairs. _Please just let her talk, just for a bit._

It seemed the Man Upstairs was in a generous mood. On a normal day he wouldn’t put it past her to cut him off early.

“Wow…” His mother said, her voice filled with something Frank couldn’t quite place. Not quite pride, but very similar.

“It’s a mess, isn’t it?” He said, wearily.

“No, no, I was just thinking… Just thinking about how much you’ve grown up.”

Frank smiled a little, closing his eyes and leaning back against the Payphone wall. “I suppose I have.”

“Listen, Frankie. Don’t ever feel like you’re trapped, because you’re not. You love this Gerard, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Frank whispered, every bit as tense as though he were confessing it to a jury who had already found him guilty.

“Then do everything in your power to save him. That’s all there is. There is no question of whether you have the power to do so, or whether or not he loves you back. You love him and that’s all there is to it. And when all this is over, you have to promise me something.”

“Mm…?” Words had abandoned him completely by this point.

“Get rid of that notebook. Let Cara go. Stop working for Death. Live. That’s all I could ever ask for you, Frank. I don’t care if you get good grades or if you want to go to college or who you choose to spend your life with. The only thing you need to do is live, and do your best to be happy. Do you think you can do that for me?”

“I think so.”

“I think that’s time up, then.”

“No… No, wait! Not yet!”

“Shh, it’s okay. Do you know what to do now?”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

“Then there’s nothing else to say, Frankie. Except I love you. You’ve got this, okay?”

“I love you too.” He whispered, clutching the receiver tighter, but it was no use. Her hand was slipping out of his grasp, and he was powerless to stop it. “I love you, I love you, I love you-“ He said, over and over again until there was a click and the line went dead.

He sat on the floor for the next half hour, slumped against the Payphone door, staring at the wall. Every now and then he lifted his arm to wipe away tears with his sleeve, but he didn’t move until he heard a tap on the window.

“Hey, are you done yet? I need to use the phone.” A slightly impatient young woman’s voice floated in, but he hardly registered it, only muttering “Just a minute…” in response.

Finally, after a few minutes of pulling himself together, he managed to get back onto his feet and reluctantly replace the receiver.

“Okay. You’ve got this, Frank Iero. Mom said so. You’ve so got this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his shades, putting them on, before lifting his head and pushing open the door, nodding to the lady on his way out. “Sorry about that, she’s all yours. Sorry about the piss smell, by the way. That wasn’t me. Oh, but the drawings were. That was all me.”

And with that he headed off to find Mikey, who’d fallen asleep in his car and was drooling against the window.

“Alright. Time to go see dad.” He muttered, starting the engine.

A few minutes before they got to the venue, Mikey woke up and turned sleepily to Frank. “How did it go? Did you get to talk to her?” He asked, his voice a little hoarse.

“Yeah, I did.”

“That’s really great.” Mikey said, entirely meaning it, despite the fact that he was rubbing his eyes simultaneously. “Did it help?”

“Yeah, it did.”

“What did she say?”

“What I knew, honestly. But just hearing her voice say it…”

“I get it.” Mikey said, and Frank patted his shoulder, gratefully. “So what are the shades about by the way?” Mikey asked, as though that were important right now.

“Can’t let anyone else see me cry now, can I?” Frank grinned, pushing the glasses up his nose.

“Bullshit, I’ve seen you cry tons…” Mikey muttered, laughing a little.

“Yeah I guess so.” Frank said, laughing too. “Thanks for coming with me, Mikes.”

“Don’t mention it.” Mikey replied, beginning to wake up properly. “Now let’s go get wasted. At least you can’t drunk call your mom anymore, right? Ouch, too soon?”

Frank laughed. “I’ve had a decade to be sensitive about this. You can say what you want.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to close those floodgates whilst you still can?”

“I’ll be alright.” Frank said, smiling. And he meant it this time.

Things were going to be alright. He was going to save Gerard. But first, he was going to get royally smashed, and no-one was going to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kind words as usual. (And sorry to anyone from Croydon but you know it’s true.)


	22. In Which it is 2002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a mess of flashbacks and dumbass dialogue

The rooftop of the motel provided a drunken Frank a much needed shower, courtesy of the dismal New York sky. It seemed The Man Upstairs had seen Frank was in a bit of a state and snapped her fingers, bringing the heavens down to slap some sense into him.

Frank sighed and pulled up his hood. He went over to sit on the edge of the roof, letting his legs dangle, and reached in his pocket for a cigarette. Once lit - after a lot of difficulty, also courtesy of the sky - he took several shaky drags, desperate to calm himself down after alcohol had failed him.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“You look nice today.”

Cara ignored him. “Don’t you remember what you promised me?”

“Mm…” Frank hummed, not wanting to hear it. He did remember. How could he forget, even if he was drunk? It was a memory that played over and over in his mind; didn’t ever seem to leave.

“Well, you’re breaking your promise right now.”

“One more.” He turned his most pleading puppy eyes on her and she rolled her eyes.

“Fine. Just one.”

“Jus one, is jus one.” He slurred, suddenly realising he was smoking it way too quickly and resolving to make it last.

“How did it come to this, huh?” Cara murmured, looking out over the city with him. “Three years ago we were just dumb kids, and now look at us.”

“Now look at us.” Frank repeated, finding those words inexplicably amusing.

“You’re in love with a guy whose best before date is quickly approaching; I’m dead-“ Frank giggled at this, and she couldn’t help but smile fondly before continuing. “-and Mikey’s so wrapped up in all your bullshit that he has no idea his brother only has two months left.”

“Two and a bit.” Frank corrected her, watching the smoke from his lips and the rain from the sky become one. Nothing could be more beautiful. Could it? “What could be more beautiful?” He wondered, aloud.

Cara hummed thoughtfully, considering this. “What’s beautiful to you, Frankie?”

“Five dollar bowls of ramen after school…” Frank murmured, watching the ash drop from the end of his cigarette. “Lying in the grass and watching the stars.”

“What else?” Cara whispered. Tears had been snatched by her coffin, but the deep sadness of loss and nostalgia did not elude her.

“Funerals all in red.”

“Nothing sad.” She insisted, shaking her head.

“Midnight Walmart trips… Drawings on napkins…”

“Gerard?”

“What about him?” Frank took a drag, before holding out his cigarette into the rain, watching the smoke rise up into the sky and then dropping it onto the ground, leaving the ashes to sink into the ground.

“That last one, about the napkins. Was that him?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s him.” Frank began rummaging around in his jacket pockets until he located his wallet, holding it out to show her. “That’s him.”

“Sweetie, you gotta open it.”

“Uhm, was just ‘bout to do that, was just ‘bout to.” Frank replied, opening it up and digging through Walmart receipts, loose change and badly taken Polaroids until he found the napkin. He turned it over to show her the sketch of him Gerard had done that time when he’d driven Frank home from school. It was messy and rushed, but Frank ran his thumb over the black lines and felt that same rush of warmth he felt every time he looked at it.

“Wow, he’s really good, huh?”

“No, no, that’s _me_.” Frank corrected her, knowledgeably.

“So it is.” Cara agreed, smiling a little. “Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t let him go.”

Frank didn’t reply, staring down at the ashes by his feet. He could hardly make them out anymore - they had become the rain and the ground and everything beneath human feet that human eyes didn’t bother to look to. His cigarette was no more. When he looked to his left again he could barely make her out either.

 

_August 2002_

“Six months left, huh?”

Mikey Way was on his third bowl of ramen.

“No, no, it can’t be that much. You must have miscounted, Frank darling.”

Cara Smith was on her fifth bowl of ramen.

“Nope, my counting skills are impeccable, I’ll have you know.”

Frank Iero was on his tenth milkshake. The only thing making this possible was the fact that he hadn’t eaten in two days. Well, that and he really liked milkshakes.

The noodle restaurant was dark and grimy and everything Frank loved and Cara couldn’t stand. Fortunately, Cara had a deep respect for the things she found truly repulsive, and was therefore happy to indulge in Frank’s love of Jersey’s awful restaurant selection. In fact, this noodle restaurant in particular had become a frequent haunt for the three of them after school.

Mostly because their ramen was very cheap, even if it was also utterly crap.

“Well this is it then.” Cara announced, dramatically. “The home straight.” She was still wearing her blazer; the sleeves rolled up to reveal her pale forearms, covered in bracelets and wristbands. Frank could swear that she got paler and paler with every passing day.

“The final stretch.” Frank reiterated, unnecessarily.

“The end of the road.” Mikey added, unenthusiastically. His blazer was draped over the back of his chair, though it was neatly done. Perhaps he was afraid of creases. Unlike Frank, who was likely unaware what an iron even did.

“Insensitive.” Cara remarked, to which Mikey just rolled his eyes. “I’m about to die and that’s the best you can come up with?”

“At least I didn’t go for a sports metaphor.” Mikey muttered.

“People, people, you’re missing the point entirely.” Frank proclaimed, loudly, apparently deciding that now was the perfect time to stand up on the table. And so that was what he did. The few other customers in the cramped restaurant grumbled a little, but nobody had the energy to stop him. Even the waiter just shrugged and went back about his (very little) business.

“Entirely?” Mikey repeated, doubtfully.

“Entirely.” Frank nodded, crossing his arms. His blazer was somewhere at home, lying in a big heap of clothes he never used. The school had given up trying to get him to wear it and now just focused on getting him to wear his tie - also a losing battle. His tie was currently around his head. It was, after all, a war strategy meeting.

“Then, pray tell, what is the point, Mr Iero?” Cara asked, before noisily slurping up another mouthful of ramen.

“That you, Ms Smith, have but six months left in this world.”

“Joy.”

“And yet you are choosing to sit here, in this god awful restaurant-“ At this, the waiter - who had been very obviously eavesdropping - looked a little affronted. “-with two of the biggest losers our school has to offer, eating terrible five dollar ramen and talking absolute shit. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Frank - still stood on a table - felt their contagiously stupid mood melt just a little as he gazed at her, trying desperately not to believe her. But looking into her eyes, he knew she was telling the truth. And he hated it. This couldn’t be all there was, right? Was she really prepared to waste her final days doing everything they usually did? Was he prepared to let her?

“I have an idea.” Mikey Way had apparently joined him on the table. The waiter let out a loud sigh, before sulking back into the kitchen, apparently beyond giving a single fuck. “Let’s just go.”

“Go where?” Cara asked, resting her chin on her palm and looking up at her two odd friends as though they were the sanest people in the room.

“Wherever you want.” Mikey answered.

She raised an eyebrow.

“What do you want to do?” Frank chimed in.

“I don’t want to do anything.” She answered, smiling a little at their efforts. “I just want to be with my two best friends.”

“Come on.” Frank whined, desperate for her to just say _something_. At this point he’d be willing to do anything.

She held his gaze for a few long moments, before slowly pushing her fifth empty bowl away from her. A few moments later she had joined them on the table. “Let’s go see the stars.”

Shortly after that they were kicked out of the restaurant, but they didn’t mind. Finally, they had somewhere to be.

 

“Smug fuckers, aren’t they?” Frank murmured, blinking upwards.

“You think?” Cara asked, seemingly in disagreement.

“Definitely. Look at them, mocking us.”

“What for?”

“They’re up here, and we’re… We’re all the way down here.”

“Maybe they wanna be down here, though.” She suggested, stretching out her arms before her. Frank thought he saw her fingertips graze Orion’s Belt.

“Pfft, that’s ridiculous. Why the hell would anyone choose to be here rather than there?”

“The grass is always greener.” She replied, breezily. Frank thought that perhaps she wasn’t taking this debate as seriously as he was.

“There ain’t no grass in space.” Frank scoffed and Mikey let out a huff of laughter. “Back me up here, Mikes.”

“Hey, you don’t know what’s up there, dude.” Mikey said, unreasonably.

“Thanks a lot.” Frank gave his shoulder a little shove but Mikey just laughed again, from where he was lying beside Frank.

“He’s right.” Cara said, from his other side. “That’s where I’m gonna go when I‘m dead.”

“What do you mean?” Frank asked, feeling a lump begin to form in his throat. It was impossible to pretend it was all a big joke when the word “dead” got involved.

“I’m gonna become stardust again, and join all those bright dots up there.”

“I’m not sure that’s how that works.” Mikey muttered, picking at the grass.

“Why not?” Cara asked, her gaze not moving from the sky. “We were all stardust to begin with. Life is breathed into us and we become people, and then it’s breathed out of us and we become stardust once more. Surely there’s nothing more to it than that?”

Frank was silent. He watched her lips move; watched her smile up at the sky. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. It wasn’t because of his stupid little crush on her - that was completely out of the picture when the word “death” got involved. Beside him was a person, who would soon go back to being stardust. Untouchable. Unreachable. Far from the grasp of his useless fingertips.

The three of them had been waiting for Cara to die for as long as they could remember. The 11th of February, 2003 was a mythical, distant date that felt like it would never really arrive. It was a shadow that they had been living under for so long that their eyes had adjusted, and things had never seemed all that dark. It was acknowledged in jokes and sarcastic remarks, but never in such a way as Cara had just done.

Never in stardust.

Frank looked at Cara, who would soon be stardust once more. He wished he could join her, but he knew that would never happen.

But he didn’t say that. Instead, he said, “Since you’re becoming stardust, please don’t expect us to get you a gravestone.”

“Aw, c’mon, I don’t even get that?”

“What’s the point when I can just use a fuckin’ telescope, huh? Actually, fuck that, I’m not buying a telescope, I’ll just use my goddamn eyes.”

“I’m just pissed off we won’t be able to dance on her grave in space.” Mikey joined in, mocking her.

She laughed, lightly swatting both of them over the head. “Pleaseeeee?”

“Only if you say hi to the moon from me.” Mikey bargained, perfectly reasonably.

“And tell it to fuck off from me.” Frank added.

“What’ve you got against the moon?” Cara laughed, softly.

“Eh, I don’t like the way it looks at me.” Frank answered, presenting said lump of rock with the finger. “Cocky prick.”

“I don’t think it’s all that bad.” Cara murmured, and Frank closed his eyes, twisting his fingers into the grass and breathing in the night air deeply, listening to Cara do the same. He wished she’d never breathe it out. “Hey.”

“Mm?” Frank hummed in response, keeping his eyes closed, whilst Mikey turned his head toward her.

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

Mikey seconded this with a nod.

“Don’t take me leaving as an excuse to fuck yourself up.”

“As if I would-“

“I’m serious, Frank.” And she was. Her tone was not fucking around. “You too, Mikey, but Frank mostly.”

Frank opened his eyes, steadily meeting her gaze. “Why do you say that?”

“Why do you think, Frankie?” She asked, with a weary sigh. “I won’t have you ruining everything because of me, okay?”

“Okay.” Frank said, smiling a little.

“No, no, don’t you dare smile at me right now!” She protested immediately, only making him smile even more. “You better promise me or else!”

“I promise.” Frank said, still smiling. “I promise a hundred times that I will not fuck myself up, or at least, not as a result of you kicking it.”

“Nicely put.” Mikey remarked, dryly. “I promise too, and I promise to keep this dumbass in line. As best as I can, anyway, I’m only human.”

Cara smiled, looking back up at the stars. “I don’t need a gravestone, or to become stardust or anything. That’s all I ask.”

“I can do that.” Frank murmured, hoping that was true.

 

_11th February, 2003 - 2am_   
_12 hours before Cara uhm "kicks it" (in the eternally sensitive words of Frank Iero)_

“I just had a dream.” Her voice was soft and dreamy, and Frank clung to every word. Held onto it as tightly as he could.

“What was it about?” He asked, softly.

“I was lying in the middle of the freeway, arms and legs spread out like a snow angel. Cars were passing through me over and over but I didn’t so much as blink. I was dissolving into stardust, slowly, and the pieces of me were floating up and up into the sky, but there were no stars to go to.”

“Why not?”

“It was day.” She said, with a laugh.

“Cara-“

“I’m bored, Frankie. I’m bored of waiting. Do you wanna go somewhere?”

He was already out of bed. “Where?”

“Walmart?”

“Hang on, I’ll bring the car round.”

“Make sure to get Mikey first. He always finds the best deals.” _As if good deals matter right now._

“Yeah. I’ll get him, don’t worry.”

“I’m not.”

The three of them spent the night fighting over who gets to sit in the trolley, before collapsing in front of the stars and letting the sky swallow them.

 

“That’s it. That’s it, that’s the key.” Frank snapped out of his hazy memories, his eyes widening with the idea beginning to form in his mind.

“What is?” Cara was there again.

“Dreams. It’s dreams. It’s all about dreams and stardust and… And Walmart.”

“You are a weird one, Frank Iero.”

“Why do you hang out with me then?”

“No, no, I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

“What’s she saying?”

Frank turned to see Mikey stood by the door to the roof, a little out of breath. Frank was impressed that he knew Cara was there, but it really should have been obvious, given how Frank seemed to be talking entirely to himself. Although, to be fair, he did that quite frequently.

“I’m a handsome genius and she always preferred me.” He replied, with a grin that earned a classic Way eye role.

“Yeah, and I’m Liza fuckin Minnelli.”

“By all means, sing us a song then, Miss Minnelli!” Frank shouted, before dissolving into giddy drunken laughter.

“None of us want that.” Mikey replied, no longer managing to hide a smile. He came over to sit beside Frank. Cara shifted closer to Frank, as though trying to bring the three of them closer.

“I missed you.” Frank said, though he wasn’t entirely sure whom he was addressing.

“Me too.” Mikey and Cara agreed, simultaneously.

Frank was quiet for a few moments, before he reached into his pocket, dug out his packet of cigarettes and threw them as far as he could, away from the hotel roof.

“What’d you do that for?” Mikey asked, his tone barely capturing the disbelief in his eyes.

“Keeping a promise.” Frank said, with a shrug, before glancing over at Cara. She rolled her eyes and mouthed “dumbass”, and that was how Frank knew that she was happy with him.

“Wow, dude, you could kill someone with that.” Mikey interrupted, breaking the mood.

“No fuckin way.” Frank protested, happily accepting the mood shift. “That thing weighs like… Like a feather.”

“Nice simile, idiot.”

“Uhm, says you.” Frank replied, weakly. The alcohol wasn’t exactly helping his comeback skills, he had to admit.

“Boys, boys. There’s no need to argue; you’re both idiots.” Cara said, diplomatically.

“Don’t think you’re not included in that.” Frank shot back, immediately.

“Like hell I am.”

Just like the old days, the three of them remained there, bickering until the sun came up, and Frank knew what he had to do.

 

Dumbass: _you still coming tonight ??_

Frank groaned, rolling ever in bed to reach for his cellphone. Seeing it was a text from Gerard, he sighed, sitting up in bed and quickly typing out a reply, riddled with spelling mistakes as usual.

_sure i am idiot i am nothfng if not a man off my word_   
_i shall be thhere_   
_when does it start aguin?_   
_*whain_   
_*again_

Dumbass: _you really need to work on your typing skills dude_

_shut the fuckj up I just woke up ok_

Dumbass: _cry me a river_

_asshole just tell mr when thebthing starts already_

Dumbass: _which mr_

_keep this up and i will block you_

Dumbass: _8pm_

_ok_   
_see you then asshole_

Dumbass: _see you dickhead_

 

_27th February 2003_

The wake was being held at a place far more “upmarket” than Death’s Diner, but to say Frank didn’t fancy going would be the understatement of the millennium. Of course, he was going to turn up eventually. Probably. He just wanted to get away first.

Shrugging off his jacket, Frank slumped over the table, writing his name in spilled milkshake. The old man was, of course, at the wake, leaving Frank alone in the diner. He hated that. He was never alone here, and it felt wrong to be now. Especially when his most frequent company there - besides Death and Mikey - was of course Cara, who was now dead.

She had insisted on having a “red” funeral, a vague demand which her parents had interpreted as a dress-code, and had therefore asked all the guests to don something red, out of respect or some bullshit. Frank knew that wasn’t her intention at all, but it wasn’t like he would say that to their faces. If they wanted him to wear red to their fifteen year old daughter's funeral, he would wear fucking red. (Or at least a red tie. He wasn’t sure about going for the full red jacket-red shirt combo at a funeral, though he was very much willing to try that out on some other less depressing occasion.)

Frank went to take a sip of his milkshake but his grasp on the glass faltered and it slipped from his fingers and smashed on the floor, sending glass and milkshake in all directions. Frank could do nothing but stare at the mess he’d made, unsure of whether it was the end of the world or the most inconsequential thing ever to happen.

“Do you need a hand?”

Frank looked up to see Gerard stood by the bar. He was wearing a red jacket, which complemented the dull, white diner walls quite perfectly. Frank stared blankly at him, uncomprehending of what he was asking.

Gerard smiled in response to his silence - a soft smile full of complete and utter understanding that Frank could not even begin to fathom, given that he didn’t understand himself one bit, so he wasn’t sure how Gerard, someone who didn’t even like him, could. “It’s alright, just tell me where you guys keep your cleaning stuff.”

“I don’t know…” Frank said, his head spinning. “I’m sorry. This isn’t helpful at all.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Gerard reassured him, gently. “We’ll leave it. Who cares, right? Just some spilled milk.” Frank got the distinct feeling he ought to laugh at that, but he wasn’t entirely sure why, and so he didn’t. “Just don’t step in the glass, okay? This tragic jacket is more than enough red, we don’t need your blood adding to the mess.”

“I like it.” Frank said, absently.

“You do?” Gerard came over to sit beside him, taking a napkin from the dispenser on the table and wiping up the milkshake Frank had written his name in. “I wasn’t so sure.”

“I like it.” Frank repeated.

“Well that makes one of us.” Gerard said, with a laugh. He was being weirdly nice. Frank supposed that wasn’t so weird, considering he had just attended the funeral of a teenage girl. It was hard to continue a stupid feud after that, probably. “Your dad’s worried about you, but I said I’d come so he doesn’t have to leave. I know less people there so I don’t look too rude.” He explained, as though sensing Frank’s confusion at his presence. “Do you want me to draw you something?” Gerard suddenly offered, catching Frank off guard.

“Yeah… Yeah, that’d be cool.” He mumbled, feeling a little sleepy. “Then we should go to the thing…”

“It’s okay. You can take your time, they won’t mind.” Gerard replied, casually. “What do you want me to draw?”

“Cara.” Frank replied, immediately, expecting Gerard to be too burdened by this request to do so.

“Alright. Keep in mind I didn’t know her half as well as you did, okay? If it’s shit you’re not allowed to hold it against me.”

“Mm.”

“Pinky promise?”

Frank obliged.

“Alright. Gimme a few minutes then.”

Frank nodded and rested his head against Gerard’s shoulder, whilst he drew.

The result was a messy but charming sketch of Cara on a diner napkin stained with strawberry milkshake. They didn’t end up going to the wake - not that anyone minded, reasoning it had all been a bit much for him. And it had. Instead, Frank rested his head against Gerard’s shoulder and told him all about Cara.

Now, whenever he tried to pinpoint the origin of him falling for Gerard, his mind always wandered to that moment. The gentleness of his voice; soft and forgiving. All Frank could ever ask for. He hadn’t thought he deserved any forgiveness for allowing Cara to die whilst he lived on, but he’d been granted it, and he was never going to make the same mistake again. Not when it came to someone he loved. Even if it meant he’d give up his own life in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dumbassery is strong with this one
> 
> Thanks for all the kind words as usual!
> 
> (Oh and I wanted to clarify something real quick, though I’m sure it doesn’t really need to be said. I don’t think frerard is or ever has been real. This is an au. Frank is friends with Death himself and God is literally someone who lives “upstairs”. It’s hardly realistic, it’s just a bunch of dumb stuff I found funny. I came up with this to amuse my friend and I in a difficult time of our lives, and to practice writing some form of romance, which I don’t do often. And it’s been very fun. This isn’t the end or anything, I just wanted to clarify that. Have a good week everyone :)


	23. In Which Frank Throws a Fork at a Grim Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And a shoe

“Why are we here again?”

Frank turned to glance at Mikey, who was slumped against the car window, nursing one hell of a hangover. “Stakeout, duh.”

“We’ve been here for like two hours, what are we staking out?”

“You’ll see.”

“Hey Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you like my brother?”

Caught off guard, Frank almost choked on his donut. “Huh?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s real out of the blue.”

“So?”

“Why d’you wanna know?”

Mikey sighed, turning his head a little to look at Frank, though he found it infuriatingly difficult to fix him with a hard stare with his eyes hidden behind shades. “Because part of me knows you have the truest intentions, but another part of me is saying that maybe you don’t really love him; you just like having someone to protect.”

“And why would I like that?” Frank asked, shifting uncomfortably, because Mikey might be onto something there.

“I don’t know… Gives you a sense of power you lack in other places? Makes you feel useful, gives you a purpose?”

“None of those things are bad…” Frank mumbled.

“Yeah, but none of them are a good reason to be in a relationship with someone.”

“Okay, look Mikes. Yeah, I think you might be right about that, in a way. I do like protecting Gerard, but not because it makes me feel powerful, but because I love him, and protecting what I love is important to me.”

“But how do you know you love him?”

“Because I just do.” Frank answered, with absolute certainty. “There are millions of reasons which I can’t explain, because they would just sound stupid.”

“Like everything you say.”

“Like everything I say.” Frank agreed, diplomatically. “I don’t know, to say like… He makes me laugh, or I find him attractive, or I like being around him - they’re all true-“

“They better be.”

“They are. But that could be said about someone you’re not in love with. It’s other stuff.” Frank struggled for the right words before eventually giving up. The right words always eluded him. “I just know, Mikey. I’m very sure.”

Mikey didn’t say anything for a while, and so Frank decided things had returned to normal. In fact, he was just about to start a conversation about baseball when he finally caught sight of what he’d been waiting for.

“Alright, we have visual, I repeat, we have visual!”

“I’m not sure that’s what you’re supposed to say.” Mikey mumbled, discouragingly.

Ignoring him, Frank quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. “Stay here, okay? I won’t be long.”

“Where are you going?” Mikey asked, though he didn’t seem particularly interested.

“Just handling some business. I’ll be back soon. And if I’m not… Just assume I’ve either been kidnapped or eaten by a very angry spirit.”

“I’ll take the latter. Nobody would wanna kidnap you.”

“I’ll have you know my organs would be incredibly valuable on the black market.” Frank replied, indignantly.

“And I’ll have you know you’d be an incredibly irritating hostage.” Mikey retorted, raising a hand in a half hearted goodbye wave. “Have fun getting eaten.”

“Will do!” Frank slammed the door and headed off in pursuit of trouble, as usual.

It took Frank about five minutes to locate said trouble, which then didn’t take particularly kindly to Frank throwing a fork he’d borrowed/stolen from Dunkin’ Donuts at it. From the look in its eyes, it seemed as though Mikey’s prediction might be about to come true.

 _I can’t have that_. Frank would rather die a nasty death at the hands of a lower level grim reaper than let Mikey be right about something and himself be wrong.

So he threw a shoe at it.

From the way it then proceeded to charge straight at him across two lanes of traffic - not that it was in any danger from that - was probably an indicator that Frank perhaps shouldn’t have done that. Not that he was about to dwell on his mistakes.

Here is probably a good point to explain that Frank Iero was a good fighter. He was certainly among the best in his field - not that apprehending rogue spirits was a particularly competitive field, but still. He was handy with a knife and pretty damn good at hand-to-hand combat. So when it came to simple ghosts, his success rate was pretty much 100%. (Even if it earned him a few cuts and bruises in the meantime.) However, when it came to highly trained and skilled grim reapers, the same couldn’t be said. His success rate was a little lower. About 0%, if you wanted to be precise, but Frank hated precision. Which was probably one of the reasons he’d never beaten a grim reaper.

And apparently that wasn’t about to change anytime soon. After failing to land a few blows - and failing to dodge several - Frank found himself lying on the road, holding up all incoming traffic, with a very triumphant grim reaper continuing to stamp him into the dust. And to make things even worse, he was now wearing only one shoe. Definitely the worst part of his predicament.

“Hey- could you- just-” Frank choked out, thoroughly inconvenienced by the grim reaper silencing his every attempt to make conversation by delivering a heavy blow to his chest. “Gimme like- one second to explain?”

“You attacked me first!” The grim reaper shot back, incredulously.

“Could you- at least stamp on me- on the sidewalk- instead of the road?” He bargained, in between coughing up blood. He wasn’t that badly hurt, or anything. It wasn’t a normal fight, after all. Grim reapers fought not with physical blows but with spirit blows. Frank’s spirit and blood were being drawn from his body with every blow, and he’d soon be left with nothing but a useless corpse if he didn’t stop this.

“You threw a fork at me!” The grim reaper ignored his diplomacy, apparently personally affronted by Frank’s misuse of cutlery.

“Yes, and if you’d let me just expl-”

“You threw a fork at me!” The grim reaper repeated, and Frank groaned, not from the agony he was currently in, or the muddy puddle he was lying in, but from the sheer frustration of having to interact with lower level grim reapers. With just one simple task to perform - carrying souls from this world to the next - they weren’t particularly well versed in the art of conversation, and were certainly not equipped to handle Frank’s bullshit. They were really quite dull, actually. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage.

“Yes, I’m aware of that, and I’m sorry. Really- Hey! Mind the shades!” Frank narrowly escaped another blow to his head, which would probably have knocked him out cold. The pain he could handle, only because this was important and he knew that if he passed out now he wouldn’t get a second chance at this.

Frank was also very aware that all the mud and dirt he was currently residing in probably wasn’t doing wonders for his poor stitches. Well, nor was the excessive kicking they were receiving, but he was trying not to think about that. All he knew was that he needed out of this situation really quickly. To be fair, he had brought this upon himself, but he’d needed to get the attention of the grim reaper, and attacking it was the only way he could think of. He couldn’t exactly just walk up to it and say, “Hello, I’m Frank Iero of Death’s Diner - got a minute to spare?” as if he was a Jehovah's fucking Witness. The grim reaper would probably throw holy water at him and walk off. Frank wasn’t entirely sure how he’d handle holy water and he didn’t particularly want to find out. He’d probably burst into flames, and that would be awfully inconvenient. Especially for the fire department. _“Sir, you’re on fire!” “Don’t worry, it’s just hellfire.”_

“You threw-”

“Oh my god, shut up!” Frank gave up on diplomacy. Amazingly, it worked. For a second. The grim reaper was momentarily startled, before deciding to hit Frank again.

The left lens of his shades smashed. “Goddamnit! Those were fucking expensive!” Frank whined, aware that he probably didn’t have his priorities particularly straight. They hadn’t even been expensive - six dollars in Walmart - he just wanted to be pissed off for a reason other than the fact he’d looked really good in them. “Listen for one goddamn second, okay? I’m _very sorry_ I threw a fucking fork at you, but I think you’ve more than made us even, so could you please let me drag myself out of the fucking road and explain why I’m here?” Drivers were beginning to lose their patience, aggressively beeping him, as though that would be of any use. Of course, they couldn’t see a grim reaper beating him up and sort of stopping him from getting out of their way. To them he just looked like a lunatic shouting at himself for no particular reason. “Shut the fuck up for a second!” He added in a yell to the drivers, who graciously took no notice.

The grim reaper appeared to consider his offer for a second, before reaching for its dagger. Shit. Frank’s stomach lurched, and for the first time in this bloody mess he was actually afraid. _Okay, old man, you win. I didn’t want to do this, but I guess I’m gonna have to name drop._

When Frank had first started working for Death, the old man had given him a piece of advice before his first job. _“Hey kid, listen carefully, okay? If you ever get yourself into trouble with people on our side - which you will, because you’re a hot-headed imbecile - just show them this.”_ The old man had then tossed him a shiny black card with a silver seal on one side. _“Got it?”_

Frank had never once used it before. If there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was needing the help of others. But right now he didn’t have much of a choice. Usually, he was so stubborn that he’d probably rather let this dumb grim reaper beat him to death than use the old man’s get out of jail free card, but things had changed. Gerard’s life was in his hands, and he couldn’t throw that away on account of his stubborn pride.

Gritting his teeth, Frank reached a shaky hand into his pocket and grabbed the card, holding it right out before him. The grim reaper paused; took the card and inspected it, before dropping it back onto Frank’s chest. It then proceeded to drag him out of the road, looking half scared, half like it still wanted to bash Frank’s head in.

Frank let out a sigh of relief, watching the traffic finally start to move again. _Name dropping always works, huh?_

 

Gerard couldn’t find his brother anywhere.

After sending leaving Mikey many passive aggressive texts, followed by several anxious voice mails, he then discovered that the little shit had left his cellphone at home. Meaning he had literally no way of contacting him. Just perfect.

So as not to worry his poor parents - because he was fairly sure the idiot was just fucking around with Frank as usual and not in any real danger - he’d told a small white lie that Mikey was at Frank’s. He told himself that it wasn’t immoral if he was saving his mother from a Mikey Way induced stroke.

However, even he was starting to get a little worried. When Mikey disappeared overnight he was usually back the next morning. But it was currently the next morning, and he was nowhere to be seen. After a great deal of anxious pacing, Gerard finally decided enough was enough. Frank hadn’t replied to any of his texts since the night before, so now it was clear he had to take matters into his own hands.

First he went to Frank’s, just to check Mikey wasn’t actually there. As he’d suspected, he wasn’t. And neither was Frank. Well, that at least confirmed the pair of idiots were together. As if that helped anything. If anything it made it worse; anyone hanging around Frank was in significantly more peril than if they were on their own in a dark alley at night. Either trouble followed that kid or he actively sought it out. Actually, it was most definitely a bit of both.

Okay, so they weren’t at Frank’s. That left two options - one of which he was reluctant to go to. So that meant he was taking a trip to the graveyard first.

The drive there was… Odd. He was humming along to the radio when a searing pain shot through his chest and he slammed on the brakes, doubling over in pain. Luckily the road was empty, so he hadn’t caused any traffic pileups with that awful bit of driving, but he had to stop for about five minutes to regain his strength. For those few minutes his body went from ice cold and trembling to boiling hot and sweating to completely normal again. It was like he’d just experienced a five minute fever, which was a great band name now he thought of it, but now was hardly the time. Not trusting himself to keep driving in case it happened again, Gerard fought the urge to immediately turn back and go home, now convinced something bad was on the horizon, and got out of the car to continue on foot. It took him about fifteen minutes of uneasy speed walking before he finally got to the cemetery. Not exactly his favourite destination, but at least it wasn’t 2am this time.

“Mikey? Frank?” He called out, heading through the gates and into the graveyard. No response. Gerard sighed, disappointed. If they were there he would’ve been called a dickhead by now. Suddenly feeling incredibly weak, Gerard decided to go and pay Cara a visit - mostly so he could rest a bit before heading back.

Cara’s headstone wasn’t particularly striking, so it took a while for Gerard to locate it. When he finally did, he sat down cross-legged beside it, like he’d seen Frank do.

“Hey.” He said, awkwardly, feeling stupid for talking to a dead person. However, somehow it seemed less strange than not talking. Frank treated her so much like she was still living and breathing that it felt odd not to do the same. “Sorry about last time. I’m not, uh, great with words. I guess I should be, since I like to write… But that’s different, cos it’s like, on paper and shit. I don’t know why it’s different out loud but it… Just is…” He trailed off, shaking his head and laughing at himself a little. “Wow, you must think I’m an idiot, huh? Coming here and talking nonsense like this. Though you’re probably used to it, seeing as you’re friends with Frank and all. He never makes any sense, does he? Kid lives in a world of his own…” Gerard was struck with the sudden thought that he was talking about Frank a great deal. “I’ll never understand why you put up with him all those years. After about five minutes with him I want to drop dead and- whoops, I’m being insensitive again, aren’t I? Jesus, I’m terrible at this.”

“I wouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

Gerard turned quickly at the sound of a lady’s voice, jumping guiltily. He breathed a sigh of relief - mingled with nervousness - when he recognised the amused-looking older woman as Cara’s mother, who he’d only properly met at the funeral. She was holding a bouquet of flowers, and Gerard suddenly felt woefully underdressed in a Star Wars t-shirt and old sweatpants. He really should’ve stopped and bought some flowers or something that would make him look less like a crazy person talking to a dead girl he didn’t even really know.

“Oh man, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“Hey, it’s quite alright.” She reassured him, her eyes filled with laughter, though not unkind. “I always like seeing people here with her. I don’t like to think of her as being lonely. It’s Gerard, right? You can call me Katy.” She sat down on the other side of the headstone, extending her hand, which Gerard took in an incredibly flimsy handshake.

Gerard was surprised that she knew his name, when he remembered that his little brother had been best friends with Cara and felt like an idiot. “It’s nice to see you again.”

She smiled. “I know Frankie comes a lot, which is a big comfort.”

“Yeah, he does. All the time.” Gerard almost told her that sometimes he even skipped school to come, but he quickly thought better of it. “She’s really important to him.” He said, instead.

“I’m very grateful. He’s a sweet kid, even if a little troubled…” She said, which Gerard thought was a very generous way of putting it. “I must admit, for a long time I thought he was a bad influence, but seeing how dearly he cared for her and how happy he and Mikey made her, I felt ashamed to have assumed that.”

“I can hardly blame you for doing so.” Gerard couldn’t resist saying.

“Quite.” She laughed a little. “So what’re you doing here, might I ask?”

“Well…” Gerard started, looking down to cover his embarrassment. “I actually came here to find my brother, but I thought I’d say hi before I left.” Gerard left out the part about his five minute fever, afraid he’d sound crazy. Or, more crazy than he already did, at least.

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Katy said, warmly.

Gerard opened his mouth, but could think of nothing to say, and so he closed it again and waited, awkwardly.

Perhaps sensing his discomfort, Katy stood up. “Would you like to go and say hi to Frank’s mother then, while you’re here?”

“She’s here?” Gerard asked, surprised, standing up too.

Katy nodded and gestured across the cemetery, “Right over there.”

“Wow, I never knew.” Of course, it made sense she’d be buried at her town’s cemetery, but Frank had never mentioned her being there, and never seemed to visit her; only Cara.

“Yep, she’s here alright.” She headed off towards Frank’s mum’s grave, beckoning him to follow.

“Were you friends?” Gerard asked, curiously.

“Oh yes, we grew up together, actually. Much like how Frank, Cara and Mikey did.” She smiled, though her eyes were misty with wistfulness. “I feel guilty whenever I come to see her, though.” Her tone became a little sad, and Gerard immediately felt compelled to make her feel better. She seemed so kind and generous, he didn’t see how she could possibly be to blame for anything.

“But it could hardly have been your fault!” He protested, perhaps a little too adamantly.

She laughed, looking a little touched at the strength of his convictions. “Not for her death, but for what happened afterward.” Gerard tilted his head in confusion. “I should’ve looked after Frankie, but Cara’s father had just left and I was busy balancing work and taking care of her. That poor kid was alone far too often. It’s no wonder he acts out the way he does.”

“He definitely does like attention.” Gerard concurred, thinking of a few of Frank’s infamous exploits. “That or he just loves getting into trouble.”

“Perhaps a bit of both.” She suggested, wryly. “I just wish I’d been around more to take care of him when he was younger.”

“He’s turned out alright.” Gerard replied, surprised that he genuinely meant it. “Sure, he gets into fights a lot; he can’t fathom the idea of wearing proper uniform and treats lessons as optional, but he has a good heart. I think she’d be proud of him, and she definitely wouldn’t blame you for anything.”

Katy smiled and turned her head, but not before Gerard saw her eyes fill with tears. “I’m glad to hear it. Thank you.”

Gerard smiled, looking down at the headstone. “I do wonder why he never comes here, though.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t feel the need to.”

Gerard frowned a little. “Yeah, perhaps.”

 

After a little while, Gerard left Katy to be with her daughter and headed off to the diner to talk to the old man. There he was informed that the pair of idiots were in New York on a “business trip” (at this he nearly choked on a biscuit before proceeding to cry with laughter) and that they’d be back that evening.

“I just hope he’s back in time for this fuckin’ party…” Gerard muttered, heading home, thoroughly exhausted. There was definitely a reason he stayed at home most of the time. It turned out that going outside was incredibly taxing. Apparently even fever-inducing.

 

 

Frank’s body lay in a heap on the sidewalk, whilst his spirit followed a very reluctant grim reaper into the Dream Archives. Pretending Frank was a dead soul, there to submit his dreams to the Archive, the grim reaper sulked his way through every layer of security until finally abandoning him at the entrance, muttering something about a Greek millionaire having a heart attack in his hot tub. Frank kind of wished he could join him, finding the idea horribly funny. Once there he spent what felt like days in a seemingly infinite queue - when in fact it was only hours for his body lying on a grimy New York sidewalk - before finally making it to the woman in charge.

The Dream Keeper didn’t seem particularly pleased to see him. The feeling was quite mutual.

“What are you doing here?” She asked curtly, her face acquiring a look of distaste Frank only wished he could match.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Frank replied, eager to waste her time a little.

“This is my job.”

“Same.”

“Your job is wasting the time of one of the most important cogs in the Afterlife machine and probably delaying thousands of deaths?”

“Well when you put it like that I sound like a hero.” Frank replied, liking the sound of that. _Frank Iero; saving thousands of lives… For a few minutes._

The Dream Keeper didn’t look remotely amused. “What do you want, Frank?”

“I just wanted to have a quick look at the archives, y’know… See some old childhood memories, have a few laughs, maybe cry, okay thanks, see you in a bit!” He began to head inside, but she quickly moved to stop him.

“Not so fast. I know what you’re up to. There’s no way I’m letting you fool me.”

“Ma’am, I am _insulted_.” Frank announced, clutching his chest dramatically. “For you to insinuate I’d _ever_ do such an immoral and _wicked_ thing-”

“You’re going to go and remove Gerard’s dream for the night before his death to prevent him from dying. Correct?”

“… No.” Frank protested, weakly. She raised an eyebrow and he gave in. “Fine. That’s exactly what I was going to do. You’re right. Happy? Now can I please go and save my friend? I already got him a Christmas present and I threw away the receipt, so it’d be real inconvenient if he doesn’t last till then.”

Her expression softened, just a little. Frank had been a massive pain in the arse to everyone in the Afterlife business ever since Death had accidentally saved him from certain death eleven years prior, but they also all held a deep fondness for the kid. He was theirs, and they didn’t want to see him get hurt. But there was nothing she could do. “There’s nothing I can do, Frank. I’m sorry.”

“So I got beaten up and stood in this goddamn queue all for nothing?” Frank slumped against the desk, suddenly exhausted. He knew the other souls in the queue were getting restless - and uncomfortable, probably since a small human wearing one shoe and a pair of shades missing a lens had broken in and bled on everything - but he didn’t care.

The Dream Keeper stared at him for a few moments, seeming to weigh up her options, before letting out a deep sigh. “Okay. There’s one thing I can do for you. But you better not tell the Man Upstairs about this, okay?”

Frank immediately looked up, eyes widening with disbelief. “You’re helping me?”

“ _Just this once_.” She replied, through gritted teeth. “And don’t expect me to do you a favour ever again after this.”

“Thank you, thank you so-”

“Spare me.” She beckoned to another worker to take her place. “Wait here.”

 

Five minutes later she returned with a tape in one hand and a mop in the other. “Don’t get excited, it’s only a copy. Use it wisely.” She handed over the tape, thrusting the mop into his other hand before he could even begin to start thanking her. “And now clean this place up. It’s covered in your stupid human blood and it’s freaking out the clients.”

“Someone really ought to tell them that they’re dead. A little blood is the least of their troubles.” Frank replied, grinning.

She rolled her eyes, but gave his shoulder a quick pat. “Good luck, kid. I mean it.”

Things had finally started to go his way, it seemed, but he’d had to get beaten up by a grim reaper, stand in line with a bunch of dead people for hours and clean up a pool of his own blood to get them to.

But when he thought of what he was doing it all for, he smiled. He’d do it a hundred times over, if it meant he’d save Gerard.

 

When Frank woke up, he was lying on the sidewalk again, with several strangers surrounding him, looking a mixture of concerned and confused. He supposed the grim reaper might have hidden his body whilst he was in the Dream Archive or something, or he’d definitely be at the hospital by now, surrounded by equally confused doctors. Summoning all of his strength, Frank pushed himself up, shrugging off their help, and began to stumble back to the car. In one shoe, of course.

Upon arriving, he wrenched open the door and collapsed across the two back seats - weak and dizzy from all the last “day”’s events. And probably the blood loss.

Mikey woke up at the sound and turned to look at him, immediately swearing. “Fuck! Frank? What the fuck?”

“I’m back on my bullshit.” Frank slurred, by way of explanation.

“ _Frank_.”

“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s crazy, I know. _This guy only has one shoe!_ Insane. How does he get about? Just fine, apparently! Although I think there might be a piece of glass in my foot…”

“Frank Iero, deflect one more time and I swear to god-“

It’s fine.” Frank reassured him with a lazy grin. “It’s just blood.”

“ _Just blood?_ ”

“You don’t get it.” Frank shook his head, adamantly. “I’m not hurt. Well, I did just get punched a shit ton, but I’m not dying or anything. It’s cool. I ran into a grim reaper and we… Kinda got into a fight. You know how that is, right?” Mikey did not. “But it’s fine now. Except that he broke my shades. That sucked. But I’m fine. And I got what I came for.” He patted his jacket pocket containing the tape. “We can go back now.”

Mikey stared at him for a few moments, before shaking his head. “You were away for hours.”

“Try days.” Frank muttered, dryly.

“Huh?”

“Don’t matter. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Mikey pulled a face. “Barely.” Frank stuck out his tongue. “Mature.”

“That’s me.”

“I was really worried, you know, but I called the old man and he told me not to worry, so I decided to get some sleep.”

“Sorry, Mikes. I didn’t know the queue was gonna be that long.”

“What queue?” Mikey asked, and Frank just laughed. “You better not have gotten a McDonald’s or some shit. Actually, you probably went up the Empire State Building, whilst I was suffering here in this shitty car.”

Frank laughed. “I wish.”

“Whatever. You know you’re probably not gonna make it to Gee’s work thing, right?”

“Course I will.” Frank replied, cheerfully.

“Yeah, if I get myself like ten speeding tickets.” Mikey muttered. “Oh, and you are a complete mess, you do know that, right? There’s mud all over your shirt and blood on your face and-”

“He won’t mind.”

“Why did you have to get changed before conducting this “business” of yours?”

“How was I to know the dude would get so mad when I threw a fork at him?” Frank protested, finding the whole thing very unfair.

“You threw a fork at a grim reaper?” Mikey asked, as though he was an idiot. (He was.)

“A _fork_. Hardly a fuckin’ dagger! He totally overreacted.”

“Whatever, you idiot. It’s nice to have you back in… Mostly one piece.” Mikey said, reaching back to give Frank’s arm a quick pat. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” Frank said, proud of his flippant tone despite the throbbing pain in his side, worsening with every tiny movement. “Let’s just get to this party, alright? I’m a man of my word.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want.” Mikey agreed, turning up the radio, before starting the engine. “Let’s go.”

They got two tickets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to the last chapter was so nice, so I’m posting this earlier than I thought I would. Thanks everyone!


	24. In Which Frank Wears One Shoe to a Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cinema Sam makes a reappearance

Gerard Way was not what you would call a “party person”. In fact, he was starting to think he was hardly even a “person” - and he certainly wasn’t a “party”.

It was true, however, that he was feeling less and less like those around him. Not in a _nobody understands me_ way - he’d practically been born into unapologetic teenage angst - but in a way that felt foreign. Unnatural. There was something different, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was or when it had happened.

In any case, here he was, at a party, holding a glass of vodka and coke and pretending to be a person.

It wasn’t going particularly well.

So far, when an employee from another shift asked his name he’d said “20”, as though she’d asked his age - and then was helpfully corrected by someone that his name was “Dave” - before spending an ungodly amount of money he didn’t have on drinks after he’d panicked and said “this round is on me”. It had seemed like an appropriate thing to say, despite the sounds of his wallet screaming in protest, but now he wasn’t so sure.

For that first hour he’d been holding out on the hope that Frank would make it and rescue him from this misery, but now he’d resigned himself to the fact that he’d either forgotten his promise or left it far too late.

And so he did the only thing he could at that point: get incredibly drunk.

 

When Frank stepped into the bar - over an hour late, covered in blood, wearing shades with a smashed lens and limping in one shoe as though he’d been stomped on by a highly trained assassin (which he essentially had) - he was greeted with well-deserved looks of both fear and concern. Two things he was very much used to being directed at him.

Unbothered by the attention he was currently receiving - they were all drunk anyway, so it could definitely have been worse - Frank sought out Gerard in the crowd, and upon finding him talking to a few people in the corner, cheerfully limped over.

“Hey!” He (literally and figuratively) dragged himself into the conversation. “Did I miss much?”

“Frank!” Gerard practically shouted - granted, the music was deafeningly loud, but Gerard was usually very soft spoken - before practically throwing himself at him.

_Of course. He’s completely wasted._

Caught off guard - both by the hug and the lack of notice that Frank looked like he’d been beaten up and dragged through a field by a rabid dog - Frank gently patted Gerard’s back, trying not to wince at the pain of his bruised body being crushed by the overly enthusiastic embrace. The people Gerard had been talking to strategically took the moment to take their exit, looking both relieved and mildly disturbed. “You good, Gee?”

“I am now.” Gerard replied, releasing him, his eyes widening upon finally taking in Frank’s appearance. “The fuck happened to you?”

Frank briefly looked down at himself, before shrugging, trying to school his features into an expression that didn’t reveal that he was in a ridiculous amount of unmedicated pain. “You know. Shit happens, right?”

Gerard stared at him, his alcohol-addled mind probably struggling to make sense of any of this. Finally, he came up with, “Shit.”

“Exactly.” Frank smiled a little, patting Gerard’s arm. “Most of this isn’t my blood, anyway, I’m fine.” That was a lie. Grim Reapers didn’t bleed. Not that Gerard would (or needed to) know that.

“That’s almost even more disturbing.”

Frank laughed. “I’m okay, don’t you worry.”

“You’re late.” Gerard pointed out, a little accusingly to someone who had clearly been through a bit of an ordeal to get there.

“Sorry about that, I came as quick as I could.”

Mikey had spent the whole way home trying to convince him to ditch the party and go to the hospital instead, but when Frank had threatened to jump out of the car and walk, he’d stopped bothering. Frank knew really that he should probably not be there, but he just couldn’t handle the thought of breaking a promise to Gerard and letting him down. The idea of that was more unbearable than the pain in his side.

Tightly clutching said wound, Frank winked at Gerard and said, “Why don’t you put that drink down and introduce me to the people here who aren’t assholes?”

Gerard considered this for a moment, before finally concluding, “I’m definitely gonna need a drink to find anyone I like.”

“Alright, but you’re gonna have to tell people I thought it was a Halloween party to explain this-“ He gestured to his face and then his clothes. “Yeah?”

“It’s August.”

“Then you’re also gonna have to convince them I’m an actual idiot.”

Gerard smiled a little. “That won’t be hard.”

“Asshole.” Frank grinned, taking Gerard’s arm for support, and also because he just wanted to.

Gerard didn’t pull away. In fact, Frank could’ve sworn he even leaned in slightly. Frank felt the pain fade away, just a little.

 

An hour later and the pain was back with a vengeance. Well, that and Frank was kneeling on the dirty bathroom floor, violently throwing up into the toilet. His ideal way of spending a Saturday night.

Panting, Frank leant his forehead against the stall wall and wiped his mouth; slumped against the graffiti and grime, feeling nothing but exhaustion. The pain hadn’t exactly subsided so much as he’d become numb for the time being; barely conscious and floating in a haze of misty thoughts and vague memories of agony that felt like a lifetime ago. At that moment nothing felt real.

Gerard wasn’t slowly dying. Frank wasn’t cursed, he was a normal kid who didn’t see ghosts or predict death. His mum was still alive. Everything was normal.

But then, what even was normal anyway? So what if his life was utterly fucked. It was going to get better. It had to.

Frank reached into his jacket pocket and, with shaky fingers, brushed the tape and sighed with relief again. This was the tape that was going to save them. Everything was going to be okay. It had to be.

As Frank was coming to this incredibly important and philosophical conclusion, the bathroom door opened and in walked none other than Sam. Remember him? You know – cinema Sam. Frank was a bit of a dick to him — yeah, that one. Poor, simple Sam only wanted to have a quick piss, and instead walked in on a kid who’d been rather rude to him at a cinema, kneeling in front of a toilet filled with his own vomit.

“Uhm… Are you okay?”

Recognising the voice, Frank quickly turned and his pale face immediately lit up upon seeing its owner. Sam’s expression was one of both concern and surprise, probably because he hadn’t been expecting to see Frank ever again, and also because Frank looked like he was at Death’s door. Which he often was, but ironically not at that particular moment. Death didn’t deal in toilet doors. Too many germs, he claimed.

“Oh yeah,” Frank slurred, reaching behind him to flush the toilet and using the handle to wrench himself to his feet with some considerable effort. “I’m wonderful. Never been better. How about you, Shaun?”

“Sam.” Sam corrected him, unenthusiastically.

“Oh, of course, sorry Stan.”

Sam opened his mouth as though to correct him before seemingly giving up. “That’s okay…” He paused for a moment, refusing to meet Frank’s amused gaze, before finally giving in. “Are you… Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Don’t you worry Jack. I’m just fine.”

“That’s not even close anymore…” Sam muttered, which Frank skilfully ignored.

“I had a fight with a Grim Reaper earlier and this old wound got reopened but it’s alright.”

If Sam thought any of this odd he didn’t show it. Frank thought perhaps it was a combination of being drunk and people hearing whatever they wanted to hear, or whatever they could make sense of. “You should probably get that checked out.”

Frank shrugged, managing to stumble over to the sink. “After this.”

“Why are you even here?” Sam scratched his head in a way Frank could only describe as caveman esque. “I swear you don’t work here… Also why are you only wearing one shoe?”

“Gerard. And grim reaper again.”

“Ah.” Apparently that made sense to him.

Frank finished up washing his hands and was about to leave before he remembered something and quickly turned back to Sam, who audibly groaned, having just been about to finally take a piss. “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

“What now?”

“I just wanted to say sorry.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, I was a dick that time. I’m sorry. I can be a dick sometimes. I’m working on it. I’m not doing great on that but I’m trying. I can’t even really admit it usually.”

“Then how come you are now?”

“Who knows. Mixture of unrelenting pain and sudden clarity?” Frank suggested, smiling a little. “But I do know that I’m sorry. I can never usually psyche myself up enough to say that so I’d take it.”

“Alright.” Sam agreed, some of the wariness in his eyes dissipating. “I take it.”

“Wonderful. Have a nice piss.” Frank winked at him before turning to go and find Gerard.

He found Gerard pouring himself another drink, which Frank very ungracefully knocked out of his hand. As Gerard was utterly smashed, to put it eloquently, he didn’t seem to mind so much.

“Hey.” He said, lacking any conviction or anger whatsoever at having his drink spilled everywhere.

“Maybe you should slow down.” Frank suggested, reaching over to brush some of Gerard’s hair out of his face. Gerard’s eyes followed his hand as though it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen, before smiling a little.

“Not like you to be all responsible, Mr Frankie.”

“That’s Mr Iero to you, and I can be responsible. It’s just boring.”

“Mm.” Gerard agreed, definitely not paying much attention. “You’re only wearing one shoe.” He pointed to Frank’s feet.

“Oh shit, really?” Frank replied, sarcastically. “I hadn’t noticed, thanks for pointing it out. I really should sort myself out, right?”

“You’re welcome.” Gerard said, apparently not registering the sarcasm. “You’re cute.”

“That’s not what I was really going for with the bloody clothes and torn up face, but thanks anyway.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude.” Gerard quickly amended.

Frank laughed. “You weren’t being rude. Hey, here’s a resposonsible suggestion: drink some fucking water.”

“Whatever for?” Gerard slurred, apparently having decided to emanate a drunk British aristocrat all of a sudden.

“Survival.”

“Ooh sounds serious.”

“Sure is.” Frank thrust a glass of water into his hand. “Drink.”

Gerard shrugged and obeyed him, much to Frank’s relief.

“Hey Frankie?”

“Mm?”

“What exactly do you do to get into trouble all the time?”

Frank raised his eyebrow, slightly amused. “Piss teachers off, I dunno?”

“No, no not school… Like… Like the time in the graveyard.”

 _Oh_. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” Gerard poked his chest and Frank tried not to wince. His entire body felt like it would shatter at any given moment.

Frank was about to ask why, but at that point Gerard seemed to lose interest in the conversation and called out to someone across the room. Slightly relieved at being saved from that difficult conversation, Frank took a sip of water himself, trying not to think too hard about what to say to Gerard next time he asked him something like that.

 

Hours later, Frank drove a very drunk Gerard back to his house, before they made the wonderful discovery that he hadn’t brought his keys with him. Unwilling to wake up the whole house with the doorbell, Frank decided to drive Gerard back to his, seeing as his dad was away. He was also slightly relieved that he’d be able to keep an eye on him. Even though he was the younger one, he didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone at that moment. He seemed weirdly vulnerable, and not just because he was wasted.

Frank got the sense that Gerard was attracting some bad spirits, and it probably had something to do with the fact that he was supposed to die in two months.

The only thing that death is drawn to is more death, masquerading as life.

“Are you sure I won’t be a… A nuisance?” Gerard asked, hanging onto Frank as he unlocked his front door and giggling with the air of someone who didn’t seem particularly concerned with being a nuisance.

“Sure you won’t.” Frank replied, ushering him through the door before closing it and leaning heavily against its sturdy wood to stop himself from collapsing onto the sofa. The pain had at first subsided in the rush of the party, before substantially worsening when they’d left. Sweet, unsuspecting Gerard - through no fault of his own - hadn’t exactly helped by clinging to him the whole time, unaware that Frank’s body was crying in protest every second.

“Are you a’right?” Gerard asked, touchingly concerned in his own intoxicated way. He made as though to come over to him and Frank quickly held up a hand to stop him in his tracks.

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Just… Just give me a sec.” Frank panted, forcing a weary smile. “Go get yourself a drink of water while I just catch my breath, yeah?”

Gerard smiled and nodded, far too enthusiastic for someone obeying orders to drink the most uninteresting beverage known to mankind.

Frank stayed leaning his whole body against the door and fighting to get his breathing under control for a few minutes, before a crash came from the kitchen, followed by an exclamation of “Whoops!”

Pushing himself off the door, Frank headed in to investigate, though he was pretty sure he knew what had caused the noise. And, sure enough, there on the kitchen floor was a puddle of smashed glass.

Gerard was crouched beside it, trying his best to clean it up with only his fingers, looking disproportionately distressed for such a minor accident. “I’m so sorry, Frankie, I didn’t mean to-“

“Hey, it’s alright.” Frank reassured him, gently. “Don’t touch that, you’ll cut yourself.”

When Gerard ignored this instruction, Frank crouched down beside him and took his hand. “It’s okay. I hated that glass anyway.”

Gerard looked at him, his eyes widening with hope. “You did?”

“Sure, it sucked.” Frank took a moment to think of a good reason to hate a random glass, before realising that it didn’t need to make sense; with Gerard’s current disposition he could say anything. “Too shiny.”

“Ah yeah.” Gerard nodded. “I hate that…”

Frank smiled, the sheer adorableness of Gerard’s relieved expression momentarily distracting him from the ache in his side.

“C’mon, let’s go get you set up.” He got up and headed back into the living room to find some sheets for Gerard to sleep with. He was opening the cupboard when he felt Gerard’s chin on his shoulder, and he smiled a little. “I was gone for like two seconds, you can’t miss me that much.”

“I always miss you.” Gerard murmured, his lips torturously close to his ear. Frank didn’t move.

“What’re you doing?” Frank whispered, unable to even move an inch.

“Hugging you.”

“Why?”

“‘Coz I want to.”

Frank thought about this for a moment. _Yeah… That checks out._

He turned in Gerard’s arms so they were facing each other and leaned forward to kiss him.

They managed to kiss for a few minutes before Gerard brushed his hand over Frank’s side and Frank doubled over in pain.

“Shit, shit, Frankie? Shit, what’s wrong?” Gerard asked, already panicking.

“I’m- I’m fine-“ Frank panted, collapsing a little against Gerard, who caught him as quickly as his drunken reflexes would allow. “Just… Give me a sec… This is great, really… Totally great… Loving it.”

“Frank? What’s going on?” Gerard asked, trying to get Frank to look at him. “What…” He slowly reached down and grasped the hem of Frank’s shirt, carefully lifting it up.

Frank went to pull it out of Gerard’s grasp but it was too late. Gerard recoiled immediately, his eyes widening in fear. “Frank, that looks really bad!” _That_ , of course, referred to the wound in his side, which had reopened during Frank’s earlier fight and was now leaking blood and pus, creating a particularly nauseating image. Hardly what you want to see when lifting up someone’s shirt partway through making out with them.

“It’s okay, really-“ Frank began to protest, before promptly passing out. Again. He really needed to stop doing that after kissing someone.

 

Frank woke up seconds later, having been caught by a very panicked Gerard, who’d gently put him down on the sofa before proceeding to violently shake him until he came to his senses.

“I told you, I’m fine.” He offered him a grin, which was returned with a glare.

“Frank-“

“Hey, you know what they say. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.”

“See, call me crazy, but I wouldn’t think that sentiment applies to things that are, y’know, bleeding onto the couch.”

“Just a bit of blood, no big deal.”

“Frank, you’re going to the hospital right now!”

“Oh yeah?” Frank asked, smiling at Gerard’s urgency. He’d lasted this long, hadn’t he? “And who’s gonna drive me? You?”

Gerard frowned, not having thought that through. “Well, obviously not… Oh! We could get an ambulance?”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I’ll drive myself, now you just get some sleep-“

“No way are you driving like this!”

“I’ll be _fine_.”

“Well I’m at least coming with you.” Gerard said, firmly.

Frank smiled, wearily. “Look, you’re really sweet and I love being with you and all, but I don’t think you’ll really be of any help at the moment.”

“Well! Maybe not… But I don’t want you to be alone. I’m coming. I don’t care what you say.”

Realising that he probably didn’t have much choice in the matter, seeing as he could hardly stand - well, that and Frank really did want to be with him - Frank relented. “Fine, fine. Let’s go.”

And so Frank drove them to the hospital; got his wound cleaned and stitched back up; made the executive decision not to drive back and instead called them both a cab.

 

Gerard, having sobered up a great deal over the last couple of horrible hours in the emergency room - wherein Frank had been the one comforting him by making fun of the condescending waiting room posters and striking up surreal conversations with any patient who could talk - collapsed onto the sofa, waiting for Frank to finish messing around with the lights in the kitchen.

“Feeling better?” He asked, as Frank sat down beside him.

“Hm, let’s see.” Frank paused, looked himself up and down, before turning back to Gerard. “Nope, still feel like shit.” Gerard grimaced, but Frank just smiled, carelessly. “How about you?”

“Why did you come?” Gerard asked, ignoring the question.

“Huh?”

“Why did you even come if you were so hurt? I’m not gonna ask how it happened, but you were a complete mess when you showed up. I only didn’t immediately make you leave because I was so drunk I barely knew what was happening.”

“You can say that again.” Frank smirked.

“Stop dodging the question.”

“I promised I’d come so I came.” Frank shrugged. “That’s all there is to it.”

“But-“

“I wanted to see you.” Frank interrupted him, his expression uncharacteristically soft. “It was worth it.”

Gerard stared. He could hardly register what Frank was saying. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Why- why? Why the fuck- why? A million times why?”

“Now that seems a little excessive, don’t you think? Anyone would think you don’t know any other words.”

“Frank! I asked you a question!”

“Why?” _Because I love you and always have. Because a few hours of pain is worth it if I can be with you._ “I don’t know…”

Gerard’s face visibly fell, and he sat back a little. Frank cringed at the sudden distance between them. What was really only a few centimetres felt like miles all of a sudden. He wondered whether Gerard had been expecting a different answer. Did he _want_ Frank to confess? Did that mean he liked him too? _Stop_. He couldn’t think like this. They couldn’t be together, not while Gerard was literally dying and Frank theoretically stood to gain from his death, since he would free him from his contract with Death.

Gerard took a breath.“You don’t like me, do you?” He asked, slowly.

Frank didn’t say anything, just stared blankly. His brain was screaming _yes yes yes_ but he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but listen as Gerard continued.

“Have I massively misread the situation? I do that a lot, it wouldn’t be the first time-“

“Gerard-“

“Is it because I’m Mikey’s brother?“

“No, it’s not that.”

“Because I’m older? I’m not that much older…”

Frank shook his head. “That’s not it. It really isn’t you, it’s-“

“ _Me_? Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” Gerard muttered, a little bitterly. Frank felt a stab of panic.

“No, no, that’s not what I-“ He stopped, grasping for words he didn’t have. How the hell did he explain the millions of reasons this wasn’t a good idea, when Gerard wouldn’t understand any of them? This would be so much easier if he just knew who Frank really was. “I just can’t. Right now. I can’t.”

“Why not?” Gerard asked, softly.

_Because you’re supposed to die in two months and I can’t be with you and not think of that. Not until I figure out how to save you._

But Frank couldn’t say that. Instead he just said, “I’m sorry.”

Gerard’s eyes softened and he nodded. “Okay. It’s okay, I understand. I’ll wait for you.” Frank’s throat dried up, and he looked away to stop his eyes from watering. “Really, I will. Doesn’t matter how long you need, I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

“Gerard-“

“No, it’s okay, really. I can wait. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

At this; Frank thought a piece of his heart broke off and drifted entirely out of reach. _God I wish that were true._ Frank had never hated time more than he did at that moment.

“But, one thing.”

“What’s that?” Frank managed, coming back to his senses a little.

Gerard dug around in his pocket for a moment before producing a shittily made, hand drawn token. “One more?”

Frank couldn’t help but smile, leaning forward to kiss him again, trying to force down the thought that it might be the last time.

Well, at least, it definitely wouldn’t, because when they were done Gerard produced two more tokens, and Frank laughed. “I told you to spend them wisely.”

“Exactly.”

Frank grinned and happily kissed him again, pretending that his heart wasn’t breaking with each breath in between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while! I’ve been away and then preparing to start school again. Gonna be pretty busy but I’ll probably be back to posting more regularly. Not very pleased with this chapter but hey, hopefully you guys will still somewhat enjoy it.


	25. In Which Frank Says the Word Skirmish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Way brothers take baseball way too seriously.

_September 1st, 2005 - a month and 11 days left_

Baseball was an important tradition for the Way brothers - and by extension, Frank, though he’d never really understood why it was so meaningful to them.

For as long as he could remember, Frank had been dragged to baseball games with Mikey and his older brother. He’d happily go along, with nothing much else to do (and it provided an opportunity to piss off his nemesis) but he’d never felt any compulsion to go otherwise. They had nice hotdogs there, he supposed. But to Mikey and Gerard it was something different. Something special.

In fact, at this very moment the two of them were at the baseball.

Frank, however, was currently attempting to steal a VCR from an old electronics store down the road from the diner. It wasn’t going especially well, considering he hadn’t thought his clothing through very well. Smuggling a VCR underneath a thin white t-shirt that had hardly fit him as a fourteen year old, let alone a seventeen year old, was proving rather difficult. And apparently unconvincing, as he had barely made it to the doorway before the cashier called, unenthusiastically, “Put it back, kid.”

Sticking by his poor decisions as usual, Frank simply replied, “Put what back?”

“The VCR you’re clearly attempting to steal.”

“What, this?” Frank quickly took it out and held it out. “Oh, I wasn’t trying to steal it!”

“That so?” The cashier - who Frank happened to know quite well, since this interaction occurred at least monthly - humoured him, lacking any ability to care.

“That’s right, sir. I was just cleaning it, you see. Can’t have dusty stock, right?”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“Right? Maybe you could give it to me for a discount for my thoughtfulness.” Frank suggested, winking.

“What discount were you thinking of?” The cashier asked, having no intention whatsoever to give him a discount.

“A hundred bucks?”

“That’s what it costs.”

Frank just smiled, sweetly.

Five minutes later he was back in his car, the VCR still very much in the shop.

“Joke’s on him…” He muttered, retrieving a pair of headphones he’d hastily stuffed into his jacket pocket. “These cost fifty bucks.”

Sighing, he pulled away from the curb and headed toward the stadium. “It’d be nice if a hundred dollars would just drop out of the sky right now… Or a million, if we’re handing out money. Too much? I’ll settle for two fifty…” He scowled, braking at the lights. “What’s the point in being friends with divinity if you still can’t afford a goddamn video player? I have to put up with all their bitchiness and get nothing in return, huh? What a load of bullshit.”

Still muttering to himself, he finally made it to the stadium and headed into the stands, looking for Mikey and Gerard, finding them easily in their usual place. The stands were relatively empty that day, it not being a particularly popular team playing.

How on earth Mikey and Gerard could be bothered to attend all of these he had no idea. Perhaps it was just his massively short attention span letting him down, as it so often did. Most of the time he could barely even finish a

Looking up at the two brothers, Frank cupped his hands around his mouth and called out to them. “Hey fuckwits!”

“What do you want, asshole?” Mikey yelled back.

“Just here to watch some good old baseball!” Frank made his way up the aisle, gesturing to Mikey to move along so he could drop into the chair between them. “How’s it going, losers?”

“Was goin’ well ‘til you showed up.” Gerard replied, offering Frank a sip of his coke, which he happily accepted.

“I’m not all that thrilled to see you either.” Frank retorted, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. “Just my luck to come here the one time you guys decide to catch the game.”

“We always catch the game.” Mikey pointed out, as though he hadn’t got the joke, when Frank knew for sure he had.

Frank rolled his eyes. “Oh, anyone want a pair of headphones?”

The brothers turned to look at him questioningly.

“They’re good ones.” Frank adopted a salesman persona. “Brand new. Great sound… Or so it says on the box.”

“Why do you have brand new headphones?” Mikey asked, suspiciously.

“Just found ‘em…” Frank mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

“You stole them, didn’t you?” Mikey shot back, accusingly.

“No…”

Mikey raised an eyebrow.

“... He was askin’ for it!” Frank finally cracked, jumping to his own defence.

“Oh yeah? And how’s that?” Mikey asked, shaking his head, whilst Gerard tried to hide his amusement.

“He wouldn’t let me take a VCR…”

“Oh wow, how dare he not let you steal a video player! What a monster! He’s definitely going to hell.” Gerard said, sarcastically.

“My thoughts exactly! Now do you want them or not?”

“Don’t you want them?”

“Nah. I’ve already got some.”

The Way brothers gave him identical disappointed stares, before turning back to the game.

“Suit yourselves…”

Frank managed to sit and watch for about twenty minutes before his restlessness got the better of him and he got up. “Alright, that’s as much mindless running as I can take without gouging my own eyes out.”

“Aw, can’t you stay a little longer?” Gerard replied, dryly. “I think they’d fetch a pretty good price on the black market.”

“Nah, you’re thinkin’ of blue ones.” Frank corrected him, grinning at the concern which this casual remark prompted on Gerard’s face. “Don’t worry, I don’t trade on the black market. Anymore.” He winked, jumping up - causing popcorn to spill everywhere.

“Where are you going?” Mikey asked, more out of wanting to know which police station he’d have to bail him out of than out of politeness.

“Tracking down a VCR.” Frank replied, unconsciously patting the pocket with the tape in it.

“Good luck.” Mikey waved at him until he left the stadium.

“We have a VCR.” Gerard was understandably confused. “Can’t he just use that?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” Mikey replied, vaguely, to which Gerard just sighed. Nobody ever told him anything.

 

After an hour of uneventful searching his apartment - with all the mess there was every possibility there was a video player lying around somewhere - Frank decided that he’d have to bite the bullet and go to Death. He really hadn’t wanted to do that, but it seemed he had no option.

He needed to watch that tape as soon as possible. There wasn’t long left. He’d put it off for a while, but he couldn’t afford to now.

So here he was, biting the bullet.

“You did _what_?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Make it a short one.”

“Well, I got into a bit of a… Uh, skirmish, if you will-“

“I won’t.”

“A fight, then, with an associate of yours.”

The old man frowned, beckoning to Frank to continue.

“A grim reaper, actually.”

“Frank!”

“I know, I know!” Frank quickly began to defend himself, holding up his hands, which was as much of a guilty plea as you could get, really. “But I’m in one piece, aren’t I?”

“Hardly.” The old man snorted, waving a hand before his own face, clearly referring to the cuts on bruises on Frank’s.

Frank sighed. “I know, I’m sorry. But I had to. And I got what I came for.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the tape, handing it over to the old man. “Look.”

Death raised an eyebrow, taking it from Frank and turning it carefully over in his hands. “Yep, this is from the Archive alright. Who gave you permission to have this, or did you steal it too?”

Frank flinched, guiltily, his bag with the stolen headphones suddenly feeling rather heavy. “I didn’t steal it.”

“You mean the Dream Keeper let you just waltz in and take it?” The old man asked, incredulously. “For fuck’s sake, why is everyone on your goddamn side?”

“Aren’t you?” Frank asked, softly, staring at the ground. For some reason he felt himself tearing up, and quickly dragged his jacket sleeve across his face to get rid of any trace of weakness. Now wasn’t the time. Not that he ever felt like it was the time for that kind of thing. It was something Mikey criticised him for, which Frank just scoffed at. Like Mikey could talk about not being open with your emotions.

“Of course I am, kid.” Death sighed, running a hand through his wispy, dusty hair. His face was etched with frustration, and Frank could hardly blame him. He’d be frustrated with himself too. “But there are rules, and half the goddamn Afterlife seems complicit in breaking them for your sake.”

“Hey, there’s still the half that killed my mom and my best friend.” Frank muttered, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “And now wants to take Gerard too.”

The old man stared at him for a few moments, before turning around and going over to the kitchen.

“What, so you’re not talking to me now?”

No response.

“Cool, cool. That’s cool.” Frank threw his bag down and stormed after the old man, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around to face him.

But when they came face to face Frank’s grip immediately went limp and his hand dropped abruptly from Death’s shoulder.

“What the…”

There were tears in his eyes. In the eyes of Death - an old spirit who’d seen the very worst of humanity and hardly batted an eyelid, there were real fucking tears.

A beat. “You can cry?”

Another beat. Death blinked at the kid, and the kid blinked back, and then they both dissolved into uncontrollable laughter.

“God, you always know the exact thing to say to completely obliterate a somber mood, don’t you?” Death chuckled, wiping tears of agony and hilarity from his eyes.

“What can I say, I was born this way.” Frank shrugged, sitting up on the counter.

“Your poor father can attest to that.”

“My _poor_ father would die of boredom without me around.”

“Or relief.”

Frank let out a mocking gasp and the old man just rolled his eyes.

“You misunderstood me earlier, kid. I wasn’t angry because you’re receiving help, I’m just frustrated.”

Frank tilted his head, a signal for the old man to continue.

“My existence has, and always will be, dedicated to the collection of souls. Good, bad, beautiful, ugly, it doesn’t matter. They’re all equal to me. There is more to a soul than its life and death, but none of that is relevant to Death himself. Judgement is someone else’s job. Dreams aren’t my department. I can’t help you, as much as I want to, and nobody else is even supposed to. Heaven knows, Frank, that if I could save you from everything that’s happened to you, I would. I’m not as cold as you all seem to think. Perhaps in regards to souls I’m unfamiliar with, but there is no soul I’ve ever known better than yours. And despite how it may seem to others, it’s a fragile one. I don’t want it to hurt. I think it speaks to your good nature that the Afterlife simply can’t resist helping you when and where it can, even though you can be an absolute prick every now and then.”

“I can agree with that.” Frank murmured, rubbing furiously at his eyes.

“So if all I can provide you is a VCR, then that’s what I’ll do. But you can’t expect me - or anyone else in the Afterlife - to continue to stick their necks out for you, no matter how much we like you. You have to do the rest on your own, okay?”

Frank mumbled his agreement, his head hanging between his shoulders.

“You understand me, Frank? You’re on your own from this point.”

Frank looked up, took a deep breath and grinned. “I didn’t need your help anyway, old man.”

“You want the video player or not?” Death growled, biting back a grin. “I like you, I never said I like your boyfriend.”

“Yes you do.” Frank corrected him, snatching the tape back off of him. “Everyone does.”

Death considered this. It did appear Frank was correct. Of the few people who had truly come to know Gerard Way, there wasn’t one who didn’t like him.

 

The tape disappeared into the mouth of the video player, swallowed it whole. Frank frowned, half expecting it to shoot back out, before remembering that this was Death’s video player. If it couldn’t handle dream tapes then it had no chance with the kind the old man dealt in.

A shudder passed through him, and Frank’s finger hovered over the play button, shaking at the prospect of pressing it. All of a sudden he really didn’t want to see its contents.

A wave of terror hit him and he recoiled, crawling backwards on his bed until his head hit the headboard. Fear; pure and paralysing. It was an unfamiliar feeling. Almost welcome. Frank thought perhaps that he had stopped feeling afraid long ago, and it was nice to have the reminder that he was human after all.

“You can do this.” Frank whispered to the darkness, forcing himself to approach the video player once more. Taking in a deep breath, he reached forward and hit the play button before he could change his mind.

The dream played before his eyes, and he watched as though dreaming it himself. Passive, ambivalent, helpless.

And all too quickly it was over.

Far, far too quickly.

 

Frank’s own dreams were filled with nothing but Darkness. His mind was empty and lifeless and utterly, utterly silent. Walking down what he imagined would be a road, had it not been bathed in shadow, Frank swung his arms, listlessly.

 _There’s nothing here for you._ The Darkness hissed at him.

 _It’s my mind, I can do what I want._ Frank protested, not particularly pleased with being bossed around in his own dream.

_Where do you think you’re going?_

_Away from you._

_You’ll never get away from me._

_You’re wrong._

They continued to argue back and forth until Frank could hardly tell whose words belonged to who. Was he trying to escape the Darkness or was the Darkness trying to escape him?

Was he running away from it or toward it?

 _Will I ever see the light again?_ The ground began to splinter beneath his footsteps, but he hadn’t been treading heavily.

_Stupid kid. This is your dream and you can’t even control it._

Frank took another step, feeling the ground tremble beneath him.

_Let me out._

_You can’t even escape yourself._

_Let me out. Let me-_

The shrill sound of a ringtone parted the Darkness. The shadows shrank back.

Frank’s hand clumsily felt for the cellphone on his bedside table, rapidly blinking himself into the waking world. He sat up in bed - realising that he’d fallen asleep fully clothed after watching the tape at least twenty times - and managed to answer the phone after a great deal of fumbling to find the right button.

“The fuck do you want at-“ He paused to check the time, before realising it was pitch black and he didn’t have a watch anyway. “3am?” He made an (un)educated guess.

“It’s 1am and I can’t sleep.” Gerard’s voice answered, and Frank was suddenly very awake.

The Darkness had retreated into the corners of his room when he’d flicked the light switch, and he eyed it warily, grateful for Gerard’s impeccable timing. Any longer in there and he felt as though he’d be swallowed like the dream tape into the video player. Except he didn’t think that the Darkness had an eject button.

“I was dreaming.” He murmured, gathering the bedsheets around him to suffocate the cold. The summer heat had all but faded, and now he was left with an open window that he didn’t have the strength to close, letting in the chilly autumn air.

“You were?”

“Mm.”

“‘Bout what?” Gerard asked, softly, and Frank felt the sudden urge to tell him everything. He longed to stroke his hair, and whisper all his secrets into it.

“Nothing.”

Gerard huffed. “You brought it up!”

“No, no.” Frank realised Gerard had thought he was dismissing the question. “I dreamt of Nothing.”

“Oh.” Gerard seemed to hear the capital N, and Frank could picture him frowning in thought. “How… How was it?”

“Terrifying.” Frank replied, without hesitation.

“Yeah, I thought as much… I’ve never seen Nothing before.”

“You’d be okay.” Frank mumbled, keeping an eye on the shadows, slowly creeping back toward him. “You’re bright enough to outrun it.”

A moment passed, before Gerard replied, slowly, “I’m not sure those words fit together, Frankie.”

“You’re bright enough to figure it out.” Frank replied, smiling a little at his own cleverness.

Gerard laughed a little, and Frank loved the sound. Loved even more the fact that he had caused it. “You really are a very strange individual.”

“Thank you very much.”

“I wasn’t aware I was giving you a compliment.”

“I can take it as I please.” Frank replied, momentarily adopting a British accent.

“Right you are. Shame you missed the game earlier.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, it was a good one.” Gerard hesitated a little before continuing. “It’s a shame you don’t like baseball.”

“Why do you like it so much?”

“It’s the one thing left from my childhood that hasn’t been ruined yet.” Gerard replied, softly.

“Gerard?”

“Mm?”

“What do you dream about?”

Gerard paused, and for a few moments all Frank could hear was the sound of his gentle breathing. Subconsciously, his own breathing slowed to match its measured pace.

“Escaping.” He finally replied, and Frank started at the word. He hadn’t expected to hear it from Gerard, who never seemed as though he was running from anything.

“Escaping what?” He asked quietly, scared of the answer.

“I’m not sure. Everything, I suppose. Jersey, school, my shitty job-“

“How do you do it?” Frank interrupted, unaware he’d decided to speak. The words came fast and slurred. Desperate.

“Do what?”

“Escape.” Frank whispered the word like a prayer, knowing it was just as futile.

“I don’t know.” Gerard replied, his voice becoming uncertain. “Just… Don’t ever look back. I did and look at me.”

“I love looking at you.” Frank murmured, absently.

There was silence, followed by shy laughter. “Yeah, well… That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Wasn’t it?” Frank asked, lying his head back on the pillow and staring up at the ceiling. “Won’t you let me escape with you?” He asked, his eyes fixed on a stain on the ceiling that he knew was there, but he couldn’t quite make out. “I don’t like it in the Darkness. I can’t breathe.”

“You’ll outrun it. You’ll see, Frankie. There’s more to the world than this shitty corner of it.”

“There is?” Frank murmured, frowning a little. He’d never really considered the possibility of a life anywhere else.

“Yeah, there is. And trust me, you’ll love it.”

“Maybe I will.” Frank shut his eyes, carefully listening to the sound of Gerard’s breathing, and allowed the Darkness to embrace him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Try to read that last bit without getting the pina colada song stuck in your head.
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked it! If you didn’t then I give you my full permission to come to London and bitch slap me


	26. In Which Frank has a Surprise Encounter with a Grim Reaper Named Derek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank has a massively overdue breakdown

_12th September, 2005_

Gerard hadn’t talked to anyone in two days. Not a single soul. Contrary to popular (his mother’s) opinion, it was hardly his fault; everyone he knew had fucked off into the Ethereal Plane for all he knew. (He was so lonely he’d resorted to playing D&D on his own. Unsurprisingly, the campaign wasn’t getting very far.) To be fair, the only people he knew were his little brother, and his little brother’s best friend, and they were both very flighty individuals who had the vastly loveable habit of disappearing into thin air every now and then.

So here he was, very alone.

“Maybe I should go out.” He muttered to himself, glancing over at the clock. 3pm. _The time normal people go outside and do stuff… But I don’t have anywhere to go…_

School was done. He hated his job. College was out of the question. The city called to him, but he had no purpose there, and even if he did, he didn’t have enough money anyway. Staples didn’t pay that well. To be fair, he did spend most of his time there throwing paper clips at Ray and pretending to be Darth Vader over the announcers.

“I just need to get out…” Gerard muttered, getting up with no clue where he was heading. “Mikey and Frank do it all the time, why can’t I? Who cares where I go? As long as it’s away from here…” He grabbed his jacket off of the chair and left the house, completely and utterly purposeless.

 

Two hours later he was sat in the baseball stands, alone. They weren’t that big, but it still felt overwhelmingly strange to be sat there with nobody around. There was nothing on at the moment, and he really shouldn’t be there at all, but he bought the guy who cleaned the stands donuts, so he was allowed to go and chill there whenever he wanted. Nobody had stopped him yet.

Now completely devoid of D&D focused distractions, Gerard found his thoughts turning - as they always did, when otherwise occupied - to Frank. Again. He couldn’t get him out of his head, nor the broken look in his eyes when Gerard had said, _“We have all the time in the world.”_ He’d meant the words to be a source of comfort, but instead Frank’s eyes had filled with hurt, as though Gerard had told him he had a month to live – or that he didn’t like Black Flag. Which would have been the more devastating announcement Gerard wasn’t entirely sure. They probably carried around equal weight.

Deciding to test out this theory, half out of boredom and half out of wanting an excuse - albeit a god awful one - to talk to Frank. So he got out his cellphone and called Frank.

It rang a few times before he picked up.

“Shoot.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Who answers the phone like that?”

“Hey man, you called me. I don’t make the rules.” Frank sounded drunk. Gerard checked his watch. _5pm. Real classy, Frank._

“ _What rules?_ ”

Gerard could practically hear Frank shrugging. “I thought I told you to shoot.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have a gun.” Gerard muttered.

“I thought you were against civilians owning dangerous human-smiting machinery.” Frank slurred.

“I can make exceptions.”

“That’s not very socialist.”

“Socialism understands that some humans deserve smiting.”

“You deserve sighting.” Frank replied, before pausing and humming in what could either be confusion or appreciation of the nonsense that just left his mouth.

Gerard groaned. “Frank?”

“Mmhmm?”

“What time is it?”

“I dunno, what time is it?”

“Hm, lemme check- oh wait, says right there on my watch: _way too early to be hammered o’clock._ ”

“What’s that, twenty four hour clock?”

Gerard laughed, before he was filled with self-loathing at the fact he’d actually laughed at that.

“Why did you call again?” Frank asked. It was a good question. Why had he called again? Gerard could hardly remember. Well, that wasn’t true. He couldn’t remember the random excuse he’d used to call him, but obviously the true reason was simply that he wanted to talk to him.

“Wrong number.” He replied, giving up on attempting to make sense. It wasn’t like Frank would appreciate the effort.

“That’s dumb.” Frank giggled. “You’re bored aren’t you?”

“I could literally become the God of Boredom and I’d still be bored.”

“Well I suppose you couldn’t be the god of boredom unless you were bored.”

“You don’t have to be what you were born to be.”

“You don’t?”

“Sure you don’t. You can be anyone you want.”

“I’m not sure that’s true…” Frank murmured, so quiet it was almost inaudible.

“Frank-”

“I’m sending Mikey to you.”

“Huh?”

“Well, I need to do some shit, but I’m sending Mikey so you don’t become a president or… whatever you said.”

“Mayor.” Gerard corrected him, fondness filling his chest, almost replacing oxygen. Sometimes his need to breathe could be forfeited to love Frank. The realisation of this was sudden and unexpected. He’d never realised that loving someone could take up so much of himself.

 

After having sent Mikey to the Prince of Boredom – or whatever the fuck Gerard had said – Frank decided to head over to the diner. It wasn’t his shift or anything, but he figured Death could use a hand– who was he kidding, he needed to talk to the Man Upstairs. He had no intention whatsoever of helping the old man out. None.

So when he found himself waiting five table at once whilst the old man sat there smoking cigars, he had to appreciate the power of divine persuasion. (Ie: “I’m literally fucking Death do what I say.”)

“I’m too drunk for this.” He whined, mostly to himself but also partly to the bewildered and slightly disgusted looking customer he was serving.

“It’s 5.30pm dude.”

“Mind your own business, kid.” Frank muttered, dropping a fork onto the guy’s plate with a loud clatter.

“ _Kid_? I’m forty five.”

“Yeah? I’m forty six.”

“What the fuck is your–“

“Frank!” Death called from the kitchen. “Get your ass over here and stop pissing off the customers!”

“I was making conversation like you’re always asking me to!” Frank yelled back, indignantly. “Now look what you’ve done.” He said to the customer, before heading over to the kitchen.

“What do you _want_?” Frank asked, dragging out the _t_ to be optimally irritating.

“Make yourself useful and take the trash out if you wanna hang around.”

“No way I’m-“ Once again Frank found himself protesting whilst doing the thing he was protesting.

“Stupid Death, stupid Death…” Frank muttered. He’d hoped he’d get a chance to talk to the Man Upstairs but all he’d done was work. And he wasn’t even getting paid! “Bastard.” He kicked a trash can. “ _Take out the trash, Frank, make yourself useful, Frank, I’m an old, demonic twat._ ”

“No, you’re a twat.”

Frank turned around, coming face to face with a very pale, blonde-haired man in a nice-looking suit. “That’s what I said.”

“No, you said _you’re an old, demonic twat_ , and I take offence to that.”

“Firstly, I didn’t, and even if I did, why the fuck would you think I’m talking to you?”

The man shuffled, awkwardly.

“Don’t tell me you’re also an old demonic twat.” Frank dropped the trash and took a step closer, trying to see past the dark shades to his eyes. “There’s way too many of them around here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself a twat…” The man said, earnestly, before muttering quietly, “My ex-girlfriend might though…”

“So…” Frank spoke slowly, having begun to finally clock what was about to happen. “What you’re saying is you’re another one of those Reaper fucks and you’re here to take me. Correct?”

He nodded.

“Uhh, I’m too drunk to fight you.” Frank groaned.

“I’m sorry.” The Reaper said, unusually apologetic. He seemed so upset by the whole thing that Frank almost went quietly.

Almost.

It took about two minutes of apologetic struggling before backup arrived. Backup being a dark-haired, terrifying woman also wearing a suit. Except she had a gun. A pretty big one too. And that’s where Frank’s defiance ended. Not willingly of course - lethal weapons did very little to scare complete dumbasses - simply by the fact that she used it to knock him out. The last thing he heard was “sorry”, for the hundredth time.

 

When Frank came to, he found his head resting against a window; a breeze rustling his hair from above. “Huh…” He groaned, dragging his face away from the window and finding he couldn’t move his hands. “Oh yeah, the kidnapping thing…”

“That’s not what this is.” At the sound of the quiet protest, Frank turned his head a little to see the blond man from before.

“Oh yeah? Then do tell me why my hands are tied behind my back and oh, why your friend _knocked me out_ with her fucking _gun_.”

“Well…” He started, running a hand through his hair. “You see, we don’t like to use that word.”

“Kidnapping?”

“Yes, that one.”

“Oh, I do apologise for using the wrong terminology. What should I refer to my current situation as instead? Please, do enlighten me. I’m just dying for synonyms right now!”

The man frowned a little at his tone, but continued nonetheless. “Well, it has bad associations, you know - not great for business.”

“Oh yes, of course, bad for business, sure.” Frank thought he might be rambling a little, but he decided he was hardly to be judged for that. He was stuck god knows where with his hands bound, next to a complete stranger - who also happened to be a grim reaper - who was trying to police his language choices. He could hardly be expected to act rationally.

“We prefer the term surprise encounter.”

“Surprise encounter.”

“Yes.”

“Wow, you guys really need to get your shit together if that’s the best alternative you can come up with.”

“I voted for one-sided rendezvous…” The Grim Reaper said, defensively.

“That’s… Somehow worse.” Frank replied, briefly closing his eyes to block out the stinging wind. “So what’s your name then?”

“Why do you care?”

“Well, much as I’d love to keep calling you a twat it might get a bit old soon.”

The Reaper was silent.

“You don’t have a name, do you?” Frank asked, slowly.

“Yeah, I… I lost it.”

“Huh. Well… I think I’ll call you Derek.”

“I’m not sure about that.” He muttered.

“Shut up and take it, Derek, or I’ll call you Malcolm instead.”

“Derek it is.”

“Wonderful. Now, Derek, if you’d be so kind as to tell me where the fuck I am, that’d be lovely.”

“You’re on a train.”

“Yes, I realised that, but where are we going? Hogwarts? Candyland?”

“Oh, right. The Afterlife, of course.”

“Oh great, so I’m fucking dead, huh? I didn’t think I was hit _that_ hard.”

“You’re not dead.” Derek corrected him. “Yet.”

“Ohhh, _yet_? I’m not dead _yet_? Instead of being dead _now_ , I’m stuck on a train with some dude called Derek, on my _way_ to being dead?”

“My name isn’t Derek.”

“And he’s a pedantic fuck too! Wow, _it must be my birthday_.”

“It’s not pedantic to correct someone getting your name wrong.”

“You don’t have a goddamn name!” Frank yelled. He’d had a bad week, and Death making him take out the trash had been a low point for him, but now he was fresh out of patience.

“You know, you talk a lot for someone who just got hit in the head.” The man muttered.

“You know, you have some guts kidnapping me knowing who I’m friends with.” Frank replied, shifting in his seat.

The man just fiddled with his cufflinks, avoiding Frank’s gaze. Why did everyone do that? He wasn’t that fucking scary. Well, he could feel a drip of blood trickling down his face - currently residing over his right eyebrow - which may be a little scary. Just a little.

“You do know I’m friends with _God herself_ right? I’m not sure you can get a better ally than that, can you? I could get into the fuckin’ Ritz on that one. Bush would probably let me punch him in the goddamn face if he knew that. I’d probably get free McDonald’s from now until the end of the fuckin’ world if Ronald McFuckingDonald heard about that-“

“I think you’ve quite proven your point.”

“I could meet the Queen of England and spit in her royal face and she wouldn’t bat an eyelid if she knew I could tell Death to take her any second.“ Frank ignored him. “So why the fuck do you shitheads still treat me like I’m some clueless mortal with no fucking clue? I’m the fucking Hercules of the living world. I put you fuckers on the map around here and this is how you repay me? Well, fuck you and your goddamn _surprise encounter._ ”

“One-sided rendezvous.” Derek corrected him, quietly, though he refused to look Frank in the eye whilst he said it.

“To say I don’t give a fuck would be so big of an understatement I’d have to bite off my tongue in retribution. I would rather die on this stupid train than travel to that hellhole just to die there instead. So go on, just kill me now. Get it over with already.”

“Oh, you’re not going there to die.”

Frank closed his eyes for a moment, before turning as much as he could to fix Derek with his worst possible glare. “ _What_?”

“I’m not taking you there to die. We just wanna chat with you.”

“Derek?” Frank said, slowly.

“Yes?”

“Why in the ever loving fuck did you not tell me that earlier, instead of correcting me on your non-existent name?”

“Sorry about that…” Derek sighed, once again, his tone strangely genuine.

Frank stared at him for a few moments, before letting out a deep breath and allowing his head to fall back onto the headrest. “You know what, Derek? It’s fine. It’s not your fault.”

“It isn’t?” This was news to Derek.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. You’re just doing your job.”

At this Derek nodded very earnestly. “Thank you for saying that, you have no idea the stuff people say to me day in and day out… Sometimes you just wanna be treated civilly, y’know? I didn’t get into the death business to hurt people…”

“Yeah, neither did I. Sorry for all the stuff I said earlier about… Ronald McDonald and the Queen of England and shit. I definitely meant it, but not for you. I’m just stressed out, y’know?”

“I understand.”

“There’s this guy. Gerard. He’s supposed to die soon, but I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Derek asked, already far too engrossed.

“‘Cuz I love him.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, he’s– one sec, could you wipe the blood off my face please? I can’t see a thing.” Derek obliged, far too happy to serve. “Thanks a lot. Yeah, so he’s this really amazing artist, and he’s kind and funny and…” Frank would’ve kept going, but whilst he’d been talking the female reaper had gone ahead and sedated him. Apparently not everyone travelling to the Afterlife was as chatty as Derek.

 

When Frank awoke _again_ he was sat before a stupidly oversized desk on a pink, fluffy sofa. The walls were covered in various shades of pink and purple wallpaper.

“This better be Hell, or the Man Upstairs has a lot to answer to.” Frank muttered, rubbing his sore wrists together upon finding his hands had finally been unbound.

“Sadly you’re not in Hell.”

Frank looked up, but could see no owner of the voice. “Uhh, are you invisible or something?”

There was a loud sigh, before the voice shouted, “Reaper!”

Derek then appeared, still refusing to look at Frank; walked over to the desk and bent down. A moment later he reemerged, holding an exceedingly short man, who he then proceeded to place on the massive desk.

Frank was too busy being thrilled at no longer being the shortest person within a five mile radius to bother attempting the impossible task of trying to catch Derek’s eye.

“If it ain’t Hell then where am I?” Frank asked, eyeing the small man, warily.

“Interrogation office. I’m the Head of Surprise Encounters.”

“Does anybody have a name around here?” Frank muttered, ripping out a tuft of pink fluff from the sofa and blowing toward Derek, who flinched as though it were a bullet.

“Depends on who’s asking.” The man replied, mildly. “I’ll keep it short, Mr Iero.”

Frank raised an eyebrow.

“If you don’t want to end up on the other side of that door“ He nodded to the door Derek had emerged from, beyond which Frank guessed the part of the Afterlife where it became just _After_ began. “then I’d listen. Give back the tape you stole-“

“Borrowed.”

“ _Stole_ from the Dream Archives. And stop trying to save Mr Way. In fact, don’t see him at all.”

“And why would I do that?”

“If you want him to even make it to his expiration date-“ Frank winced at the crude term. “Then don’t even go near him.”

Frank couldn’t say anything but stare as the man hopped ungracefully off of the desk and exited through the door.

“Derek?” He finally said, turning to the Reaper.

“Yeah?”

“I want to go home.”

Derek nodded, and before Frank knew it they were on the train back to the waking world; breathing in the clouds. They were quiet the whole way, save a few flippant remarks. When they reached the final stop Derek cleaned the blood off of his forehead and wished him luck saving Gerard, his tone as earnest as ever.

“Thanks Derek. Sorry again about all the swearing and shit.”

Derek shrugged. “S’alright. Thanks for not making a big deal out of the whole one-sided rendezvous thing. Well, in the end anyway…”

“Yeah, no problem. Hey listen.”

“Mm?”

“Could you do me one small, tiny favour?”

“If I can.”

Frank was beginning to think perhaps not all grim reapers were all that bad after all.

 

Derek had given him six hours.

It was dark by the time Frank found his way to Gerard’s house. Around midnightish, according to his watch. He’d never been great at telling the time.

Walking up the steps to knock on the door, Frank recalled Derek’s parting words. _“I can give you six hours but not a second more, okay? And then you can’t see him again. Not if you don’t want them to come for him.”_

Gerard’s mum answered the door. Frank was surprised she was still awake.

“Sorry to disturb you.” He said, apologetically, wiping his shoes on the doormat. He didn’t want to tread Death all over the house.

“That’s quite alright, Frankie, I was awake already.”

Frank made hushed conversation with her for a while before heading toward Gerard’s room.

He knocked twice. No response. Kicking the door in did the trick.

It turned out Gerard wasn’t asleep, he was simply wearing headphones.

“Frank?” His eyes widened a little and he took his headphones off, throwing them on his bed. “Why have you always gotta enter every room like you’re James fuckin Bond?” He glanced at the clock. “What are you even doing here?”

“Firstly, I’m not James Bond, I’m way cooler than that guy.” Gerard rolled his eyes. “Secondly, I came here to see you.”

Gerard raised his eyebrows. “Frankie, I thought we-“

“It’s okay, I’m not gonna try anything. I just wanna… I just wanna watch a film or somethin’. Whatever you want. Can we do that?”

“Sure…” Gerard said, slowly, before smiling that smile that always made Frank melt. “Come’ere.” He patted the bed beside him.

Frank happily went over and sat next to him, keeping his shoes on. Gerard eyed them distastefully, but apparently decided not to comment. Gerard got up to find a DVD - Frank didn’t even bother paying attention to which one - before coming back to lie next to him. After a while, Frank inched closer and rested his head on Gerard’s chest. He froze for a moment, before Frank felt his fingers gently stroking his hair.

“You’ve had a shitty day, haven’t you?” Gerard murmured, softly.

“How did you know?” Frank asked, surprised.

“I know you better than you think.”

“Mm… It was pretty shitty… I made a new friend though.” Frank mumbled.

“Oh yeah? And they said it couldn’t be done!”

Frank lifted his head and glared at him in mock annoyance, before lying back down again, trying to stop himself from smiling. “You asshole.”

“ _You’re_ the asshole.”

“No, you are.”

Gerard brushed a strand of hair away from Frank’s face, smiling until his eyes strayed over Frank’s face and he flinched.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, before realising that he was probably looking at the bruise from that lady’s gun earlier.

Gerard didn’t say anything for a while. So long, in fact, that Frank was about to spout some made up excuse. However, Gerard beat him to it. “Why are you always hurt, huh, Frankie? And you never tell me why”

“I’m a dumbass, that’s why.” Frank murmured, smiling up at him.

Gerard rolled his eyes, though his lips had quirked upwards a little. “How drunk are you, huh?”

Frank considered this. He’d definitely been pretty drunk when he’d run into Derek earlier, but now he wasn’t even sure. Was it drunkenness, mild concussion, tiredness or deliciousness from having travelled to a different dimension and back? Who could say? Possibly and probably all of the above. “I’m completely sober.” Frank said, instead.

“Yeah, right.” Gerard scoffed, though his fingers were still stroking Frank’s hair. “You really are an idiot.”

“Well, you’re afraid of the dark.” Frank retorted, propping himself up on his elbows to face Gerard, grinning a little at his murderous expression.

“I’m not _afraid_ , just cautious.”

“Oh yeah?” Frank laughed. “Tell me then, what else are you _cautious_ of?”

“I don’t know.” Gerard closed his eyes in thought for a moment. “Real life, I suppose.”

“What d'you mean?” Frank asked, watching Gerard’s fingers tapping restlessly on his leg.

“I just don’t think I can do it. The whole life thing, that is.”

“But you’re doing it right now.”

“But not really.” Gerard corrected him, his tone full of frustration - though none of it directed toward Frank. “I’m going fucking nowhere, Frank.”

“That’s not true…” Frank murmured, frowning. He couldn’t stand seeing him look so lost. “So what you’re not doing it how everyone else does? Who cares? You’ll figure it out.”

“I sure hope so.” Gerard replied, softly, before smiling at Frank. “You’re right, I’m sure.” Frank knew he was just saying it for Frank’s benefit, but he smiled anyway. It would make Gerard feel better to at least go along with it.

“I’m going to miss you.” He whispered.

“What?” Gerard asked, clearly not having caught it over the noise of the film, which they weren’t paying the slightest attention to.

“Never mind.” Frank shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

 

Gerard fell asleep first. Frank lay next to him for the next few hours, savouring the feeling of being close to him.

And then before he knew it, it had nearly been six hours and he had to leave.

Leaving a piece of his heart where he’d been laying beside him, Frank left Gerard asleep and walked home, wondering whether it would have been less painful to have just stayed on that train and not come back at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyy been a while - I’ve been pretty busy with school etc but I’m off for a couple weeks soon so hopefully I’ll get some more done then!
> 
> Comment your favourite character, I wanna see who you guys like to read about best
> 
> (Btw if you grew up in the UK in the 2000s and didn’t get the Horrible Histories reference then shame on you)


	27. In Which Frank and Mikey Infiltrate Homecoming Pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank volunteers at an old people’s home

Frank was used to saving Gerard. In fact, he’d been doing it all his life.

For as long as he could remember, spirits had been unusually interested in Gerard. And not the good kind of spirits. To present an early example, when Frank was seven he’d jumped out of a second storey window to warn him that there was a ghost creeping up behind him and had broken his arm and cracked multiple ribs. Another time, when he was fifteen (and only a little less stupid) he’d nearly driven into a tree whilst surreptitiously following Gerard to a party to make sure he didn’t run into the spirit Frank had caught watching him earlier. Both times Gerard had called him an idiot and his heroism went completely unnoticed.

Now thinking back, Frank wasn’t entirely sure if he’d really been trying to save Gerard, or whether he’d just wanted his attention.

But now, as he walked into the local old people’s home to “volunteer”, he remembered all of the stupid things he’d done to look after Gerard. Volunteering at an old people’s home to go around trying to find a replacement 100th name definitely topped the list.

He found the desk and grabbed an application sheet, frowning as he filled it out diligently.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

Frank looked up at the frankly offensive tone, trying to force himself not to immediately become hostile. It was second nature at this point.

“Just volunteerin’. What do you think you’re doing?” He was trying to sound like he was just making a friendly joke, he really was.

The receptionist - _Tim_ , according to his name badge - regarded him with an expression of unconcealed distaste and completely ignored the question. “Really?”

“Mm.”

“Why’s that?”

“Oh y’know.” Frank skimmed the medical option of the form, writing in the “other” section: _sometimes I faint and stuff but it’s no big deal_. “Just doin’ my bit for, uhm, society.”

“Right.” Tim said, unconvinced.

Frank signed the sheet before handing it to him with a bright smile. “Be sure to put this on the top of the pile!”

“Will do.” Tim said, in a tone that actually said, _“It’s going straight in the trash.”_ Frank wondered whether it was the nose ring or the fingerless gloves that made him so reluctant to give Frank the time of day.

“This is discrimination.” Frank muttered as he left the building.

 _“Against who? Teenage delinquents? Seems fair.”_ Frank wasn’t sure when Cara had shown up, but he wished she hadn’t. She wasn’t being especially supportive and he didn’t appreciate that.

“It’s _not_ fair.” He argued. “Sometimes I wanna do good!”

At that she just laughed. Frank couldn’t exactly blame her. The concept was as far-fetched as… well, trying to explain pretty much his entire life.

As he was walking down the street to the diner, his cellphone started to ring. He almost answered it until he saw who was calling. Gritting his teeth, he shoved it back in his pocket and forced himself to keep walking. _It’s for his own good._

It didn’t make it hurt any less, though.

 

The Man Upstairs was less than pleased to see him.

“What now, kid? I’m working.”

Frank looked pointedly at the television, where she was watching some reality show. “Is that what people call working these days? Guess I’ve been doing it wrong!”

The Man Upstairs fixed him with a look of complete and utter apathy and turned up the television.

“No, say no more!” Frank held up a hand, dramatically.

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

Frank ignored this highly valid point. Being a sarcastic asshole was pretty much the only thing he could commit to. “I shall go and hand in my notice this instant! No more will I be complacent in this abomination that is the exploitation of the working class! No, I shall stand strong against the oppressive machine of capitalism and-“

“Oh just shut up and tell me what you want.” She interrupted, not wanting to put up with another minute of his smug rambling, adding under her breath, “All of a sudden you’ve swallowed a dictionary…”

“A favour…” Frank said, quietly, before skilfully dodging the plate that was subsequently thrown at his head. “Now that was uncalled for!”

“What did I say about favours, Frank?” Her tone was dangerously soft.

“Uhm… That you’re willing to do anything I ask?”

“ _No_ , I said that you don’t get any more!”

“Can’t you just this once? _Please_? Pretty please? I’ll owe you big time!”

“Ah yes, how terribly convincing.” She deadpanned, scowling at him from where she sat cross-legged in front of the television. “There’s nothing you could do for me that I couldn’t do for myself.”

“Showoff.” Frank muttered.

“Frank.”

“Aw come on, I was just kidnapped and taken to the Afterlife where I was blackmailed into not talking to someone I love, and-“

The Man Upstairs immediately interrupted. “You were taken _where_?”

“The Afterlife. Didn’t you know about this? I assumed you had something to do with it.”

“Not remotely.” She didn’t look happy, but at least her wrath wasn’t directed toward him now. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

Frank saw an in. Biting back a grin of triumph, he cleared his throat. “Yeah, and ever since I got back I’ve been in such terrible pain…”

“Don’t milk it.” She scowled at him.

“Sorry.” He grinned sheepishly.

Her expression suddenly became thoughtful. “You were lying just then, weren’t you? About being in pain…?”

“Well, not really… I can’t explain it… it’s not my heart. If I had to describe it - even though this sounds ridiculous - I’d say… My soul is in pain.”

She frowned. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

_That’s not good._

He sighed theatrically, trying to cover up his growing unease. “What is it now?”

She looked up at him, and for the first time since he’d met her, she looked worried. “I think you’d better have some tea.”

 

Gerard was sat at his desk when he felt it.

It was entirely inexplicable, an intangible feeling that he could only describe as dread. The kind he’d only felt once before – when he’d been certain something had been chasing him, and he’d run into the phone box to call Frank. Except Frank wasn’t answering right now.

He hadn’t been answering Gerard’s calls for days now, and he was starting to worry. Mikey genuinely didn’t seem to know - Gerard knew when he was lying - and since it was the holidays there was no chance of running into him at school.

 _He’s probably busy._ He told himself for the millionth time, whilst simultaneously one hundred percent certain something else was going on. _But why does he have to busy right now?_

Gerard sighed and took a biro out of his pencil pot, spinning it between his fingers to try and take his mind off this creeping sense of fear starting to swallow him. But it only seemed to get worse.

Finally he got up, shoving the biro into his pocket, and headed out. At least outside he wouldn’t be trapped.

 

Frank made a face as a mug of herbal tea was set down on the coffee table in front of him. He was sitting on the Man Upstairs’ disgustingly floral sofa, eyeing his drink as though it was hemlock. Or some other poison. He didn’t know much about poisons – or similes, apparently.

“You know I hate drinks that taste like my grandma’s wallpaper.” Frank whined.

“Drink up, it’s good for you.” The Man Upstairs replied, dismissively.

Frank found himself taking a sip, immediately grimacing. _I hate how she can get you to do something without lifting a fucking finger._

She sat down beside him, sipping from her own teacup. “You said you feel pain in your soul.”

“Something like that.” Frank muttered, embarrassed at the sentimentality of the words.

“Poetic as it may sound, you’re not entirely wrong.”

“Ah shit, am I dying for real now?”

She gave him a look that was surprisingly sympathetic and Frank was struck by a lightning bolt of panic.

“I _am_?”

“Not quite.”

Frank waited, but she didn’t elaborate. “Well go on!”

“That’s it. You’re starting to, but you’re not dead yet.”

“Why though? What’s changed?” Frank’s hands were trembling so violently that he had to put down his teacup to stop the tea from sloshing out. “Why… Why is this happening?”

“It would seem that you’re reaching a deadline of sorts. As you’re approaching it your soul is weakening significantly. If you don’t fulfill the 100th name by it then your soul will wear away completely. I suppose you could say this deadline is your friend’s death date.”

Frank sat back in his chair, staring at the wall. It was covered in various paintings and photographs of places and people from all over the world. Abruptly and pointlessly, in that critical moment, Frank was struck by the realisation that the Man Upstairs loved the world more than anything.

“Frank?”

Frank looked over at the Man Upstairs, who had followed his gaze over to the wall, and was frowning a little.

Finally, he brought himself to speak, slowly. “So, what you’re saying is… If he doesn’t die, then… Then…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“If he doesn’t die then you do, that’s correct.” She finished for him.

Frank stared at her for a few moments, before he started to laugh, bitterly. “All my life the cruelness of this stupid world has never surprised me, but that really takes the cake.”

“Doesn’t it just? Speaking of, I have cake. Want some?”

“Why the hell not? I’m dying, I fuckin’ deserve some cake at least.”

The Man Upstairs got up to retrieve said cake.

Frank watched the television for a while, trapped in a haze of not entirely knowing where he was or what was happening, until he suddenly realised he hadn’t said what he’d came to say.

“Look, you can explain this all to me later, but can you please just do me a favour? Just one, I promise.”

“What is it?” She called from the kitchen.

“Could you… Could you find a way to tell Gerard about… My ability.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“None of the prediction stuff or anything, but… About seeing ghosts and stuff. I… I want him to know.”

She reappeared, holding a plate with some stale-looking cake dumped unceremoniously on it. “Why would you want me to do that?”

Frank shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance. The idea that he wouldn’t get the chance to explain it himself was starting to present itself to him and it was causing a lump to form in his throat. “He deserves to know.” He managed, his voice strained. “And I might not be able to tell him myself.” He thought about the warning of the man in the Afterlife. He couldn’t risk Gerard dying before he managed to save him, no matter how much he wanted to see him.

“Well…” She came over, handing him the cake. He took a bite and found he was right. It was most definitely over a week old. “I could do that for you. If that’s what you really want.”

Frank nodded.

“But can’t you tell him yourself?”

“I was warned not to have any more contact with him.” Frank muttered, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

“Ah.” The Man Upstairs sat down, scratching her neck. “But Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“What’re you going to do about that ghost friend of his?”

 

_A year earlier_

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Frank?”

“Of course it isn’t, Mikes, that’s why we’re doing it.”

“Why am I friends with you again?”

“Because your life would be so incredibly boring if I wasn’t in it.”

“Incredibly peaceful more like. You know-“

“Shh, someone’s coming!”

Frank and Mikey, on the roof of the school, simultaneously ducked behind a chimney.

“Who is it?” Mikey whispered, holding tightly onto Frank’s sleeve.

“Chill out, it’s just some teachers having a smoke.” Frank hissed back, peering out from behind the chimney. He waited until they finished and turned to leave until he quickly tapped Mikey’s arm. “This is our chance, follow me!”

Mikey groaned, but followed Frank nonetheless as he hurried over to catch the door before it swung shut.

This whole thing had begun when Frank had had the genius idea of infiltrating the senior homecoming. Gerard, despite knowing he was going to have to retake the year, was going. Mikey had told Frank that this was because he had a date, which Frank had become determined to ruin. However, this plan had quickly changed when he’d noticed a ghost following Gerard around at school. Now his main goal was to ensure he was okay. He’d managed to convince Mikey to come along by pestering him for a week straight until he’d agreed.

They’d managed to get onto the roof by sneaking up there after school, and then waited until it started. At least nobody could accuse Frank of not being dedicated.

 

Five minutes later they were outside the doors to the hall.

“Do we just go in or…?” Mikey started as though about to go through the door before immediately seeming to change his mind.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Frank rolled his eyes, pushing Mikey out the way and kicking the door open.

Aware that he was standing out in his uniform, Frank quickly headed straight into the throng of people on the dance floor, keeping an eye out for Gerard.

When he finally found him in the crowd, his heart lurched. He’d been right to come after all. Gerard, focused entirely on his date, was within arm’s reach of the same ghost from before. But this one wasn’t like Cara or any of his other friends.

No, this wasn't good at all.

Frank had the distinct sense he was about to get into a lot of trouble, and the familiar sense that he didn't give a shit. Especially not as long as Gerard was in danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uhm. Good week for my chem fans huh? Sorry this is a short and rather uneventful one, and that it’s taken a while. I’m super busy. But will hopefully get another one out next week.
> 
> Have a nice day and thanks for reading!


	28. In Which the Unholy Trinity Gets Noodles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bus revelations

_“Can’t you just stay out of my life for once? Do you even realise the lengths you make other people go to for you?”_

On the way back from work, Frank kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with everyone - living or dead. Cara and the others tried talking to him but he ignored them, going over the Man Upstairs’ words in his head. It had been two days but he still couldn’t stop thinking about them.

_“What’re you going to do about that ghost friend of his?”_

Frank thought that in sealing the spirit away in that pen that he’d gotten rid of it for good, but the Man Upstairs seemed to think it still posed a threat. Granted, he’d lost the pen, but surely it couldn’t have found its way back to Gerard?

“What am I going to do?”

“Look where you’re going.” Cara was really testing his patience today. If she wasn’t dead he’d kick her.

“I just don’t know…”

“Frank-”

Frank sighed, speeding up. This proved to be a bad decision - combined with his decision to stare at the pavement instead of where he was going - when he walked straight into a lamppost. He bounced off of it like it was made of… whatever bouncy castles were made of — rubbing his head and groaning.

“Where the fuck did that come from? Jesus, fuck me…”

“Jesus would take one look at your record and bolt.” Cara wasn’t being especially supportive.

“I wasn’t literally asking Jesus to fuck me, shithead.” Frank growled, not particularly in the mood for analysing the ill-advised words that tended to come out his mouth — especially when he’d just destroyed about a billion brain cells via a very rudely-placed lamppost.

“I told you to watch where you’re going, asshole.” She shot back, her smile not exactly matching her words. Frank found his eyes strangely drawn to her blood-stained uniform. He imagined it was him wearing it instead, and she was the one walking into lampposts and getting strange looks from people for apparently talking to herself. He imagined her going to school and sitting next to Mikey in history; hanging out at the diner and eating shitty fries; watching baseball games and getting into fights with drunk assholes at parties. His life was made up of a series of mundane, mostly meaningless events, but up until recently, he would’ve done anything to give it to Cara instead; let her live his shitty life for him and enjoy the shitty moments as they came.

And there was his problem — both Cara and the Man Upstairs had made that clear. He couldn’t give his life to her, and he couldn’t just treat it like his actions had no consequences and hurt those around him. So what was he supposed to do with it?

Up until about six months ago he would’ve given it to Cara in a heartbeat. But something had happened. Gerard. Gerard had happened. Sure, he’d always been there, but never… Never reachable. But now he was right there. Frank could even reach out and touch him. He loved Cara, but suddenly he wasn’t sure he was willing to give up _everything_ \- not even for her. But for Gerard… Gerard was alive. Cara wasn’t.

All his life he’d felt as though he’d stolen his breath from someone. He should’ve died instead of his mother. He should’ve died instead of Cara. And now he had the option to put things right with Gerard. Gerard wasn’t living on borrowed time; he was living on his own time. Frank could make sure that time didn’t run out.

He couldn’t steal another life.

Jesus definitely wouldn’t fuck him then.

“Why are you staring at me?” Cara’s soft voice drew him from his thoughts, back to the dirty pavement on the dirty street outside a dirty noodle bar.

“It should’ve been me.” He murmured, staring at the restaurant’s blazing neon sign. _OPEN_.

“What should’ve been you?” She asked, frowning like she always did when he left her out of his train of thought.

“Everything.” He rubbed his head, wincing. He didn’t think there was any blood, but he could already feel a bump where he’d hit it. He was definitely becoming a little light-headed.

“What are you talking about?” Cara whined, following him as he abruptly started toward the restaurant.

“I’ve made up my mind.”

_Something’s got to give; me or Gerard. And it’s not going to be Gerard._

He pushed open the door, dumping his bag on a stool by the window, ordering three bowls of ramen and - after receiving a disapproving look from the waitress - sat down with them. Cara “sat” on the stool beside him, chin resting on palm, regarding him with the stare she used when trying to figure something out.

“What are you up to now?”

“You’ll see.” He replied, slurping up a mouthful of steaming hot noodles. “Mm, this is fucking good.”

Cara wrinkled her nose, distastefully. “I went to this place a few times, when I was still kicking around.”

“And?”

“Tasted like-“

“Frank?” It sounded like someone was trying their best to pretend they were surprised to see him. Frank fully expected to see a hitman with a loaded gun.

Frank turned around and smirked. _Close enough_. He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or irritated to see a very pale, anxious-looking man, wearing a shoddy black suit and clutching a bowl of ramen as though it were the key to life itself. It very well may have been; Frank of all people definitely wouldn't know the meaning of life from a bowl of noodles.

“Derek?”

Derek squirmed uncomfortably. “Mind if I join you? I don’t like eating alone…”

“Sure thing, buddy. Pull up a chair.”

Derek nodded and sat on the empty chair beside Cara. Frank raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t comment on it. Cara smirked.

“What’re you doin’ here then?” Frank asked, moving into his second bowl. Derek regarded his rather excessive portion with mild distaste, but in typical Derek fashion he didn’t comment.

“Well… I was in the area, you see, and I thought, well, I might get some food… Not that I need it, but…”

“You wanted to feel like you’re alive?”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, precisely.”

“I know the feeling.”

“But you’re not dead.”

“You sound just like my therapist.” Derek opened his mouth but Frank got in first. “Just kidding. Like I could afford one of them.” He grinned, which only made Derek more flustered.

“You’re not dead.” He repeated.

“Says who?”

“Me.”

“What do you know?”

“I’m a grim reaper. This is quite literally my day job.”

“He’s got you there.” Cara said, grinning at him. Frank scowled at her.

“I know I’m not, but sometimes I don’t feel like I’m all that alive, y’know?”

“No, not really.”

“It’s like this.” Frank grabbed a napkin from his tray and spread it out. “Got a pen?”

Derek nodded and handed him a rather expensive-looking fountain pen.

Frank laughed and took it. “That looks fancy. I wasn’t expecting you to have one.”

Derek shrugged. “Most of my job is paperwork.”

Frank pulled a face. “I don’t think I could be a grim reaper.”

“Yeah, it sounds like you have to be literate to be one.” Cara added, laughing when Frank glared at her.

“Anyway. It’s like this.” Frank drew a line in the middle of the napkin. “This-“ He drew a dot at the beginning. “-is the beginning of my life. That’s alright. Then we get to here-“ He drew a dot about an eighth of the way through it. “Car crash. My mum died, I didn’t. Then later-“ He drew a dot closer to the end. “Cara. Again, I should have died.”

“How’s that?”

Frank shrugged, avoiding making eye contact with him. “Doesn’t matter.” He quickly moved on before Derek could question him further. “Then we get to right now. I was just beginning to feel like I might just belong in this world, and then I find out Gerard’s going to die and everything blew up again. Now it’s all fucking ruined and I don’t even feel like I should be here at all.”

“That makes three of us.” Derek said, quietly.

Frank smiled a little, moving onto his third bowl. “You can see her, huh?”

Cara beamed, clapping her hands in delight. “This brings me back!”

“To what?”

“Being a person.”

Frank felt the usual pang of sadness at not being able to touch her. He really wanted to hug her. “You are a person, Cara.”

“Frankie-“

“If someone as fucked up as me can be classed as a person, you fucking well can, got it?” She smiled. “Hell, if someone like Derek can sit there eating noodles like he’s a functioning member of society, you can call yourself a fucking person.”

“Hey.” Derek didn’t look especially insulted.

Cara nodded, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that same old smile. “Got it.”

Frank looked between the two of them, shaking his head. “We’re a strange bunch, huh?”

“What, a grim reaper, a ghost and a kid who carries around a notebook full of dead people? I don’t see what’s so strange about that.” Derek deadpanned, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“The Unholiest Trinity out there.” Frank laughed.

The moment was interrupted by Frank’s phone deciding now was a good time to ring. Gerard. He put it on the table, trying to ignore the buzzing.

“Why aren’t you picking it up?” Derek asked.

“He’s an idiot.” Cara said.

“I’m following _his_ advice.” Frank corrected her. “I’m not supposed to contact him, right?” Come to think of it, it was strange that he was calling. Gerard had stopped trying to contact him completely a few days ago. Frank thought the Man Upstairs might have done what he asked and perhaps Gerard, knowing the truth, was too freaked out to talk to him. Or maybe he’d just given up. Frank might have finally succeeded in driving him away. Something in him didn’t believe that, though, or perhaps he just didn’t want to believe that.

“Oh, it’s him.”

“Yep. The only person whose calls I want to answer, and also the only person whose calls I’m not allowed to answer.” Frank pushed his noodles around the bowl.

“Aren’t you worried about him?”

Frank frowned, looking up at Derek. “Every second of every day. Why?”

“Well, someone’s trying to kill him, you know.”

“Yes, you and your friends.” Frank replied, rather unfairly. His phone stopped ringing.

Derek looked a little affronted, but pushed on anyway. “No, I’m talking about the spirit that’s out to get him.”

“Oh. That.” The Man Upstairs had asked him about it earlier, and he hadn’t had an answer. He had no idea what he could do about it from afar, but it was concerning to say the least. Sure, ghosts had always been interested in him, but this was different. Frank was pretty sure earlier on it had just been because he was often around Frank — the ghosts had rarely been hostile. But recently… In the last two years it really felt like someone had it in for him.

“Only you can save him from her.” Derek said, before slurping up more noodles than he could chew at once. Clearly he was out of practice with this whole eating thing.

“I know, but you told me-“ Frank fully registered his words a little too late. “Wait, _her_?”

Derek took a moment trying to swallow all his noodles before finally continuing, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “You didn’t know?”

Heart pounding, Frank slowly set down his chopsticks. His phone started buzzing again. “ _Know what?_ ”

Derek pointed his chopsticks at Cara. “It’s a part of her spirit that’s trying to kill him.”

Frank stared at him for a long moment. He was feeling dizzy again. Dragging shaky fingers through his hair, Frank slowly got up and picked up his cellphone. “I’ve… I’ve got to go.” He briefly met eyes with Cara, who was staring at him, eyes wide with either shock or fear, before turning and sprinting out the door.

Once out of the restaurant he could think of nothing but the phone buzzing in his hand. He raised it to his ear, his hand trembling too much to hold it still. “Gerard?”

“ _Frank_.” Gerard’s voice on the other end was frantic. Frank was suddenly struck with the thought of Gerard answering the phone to him that time he picked Frank up from the cemetery in the middle of the night. He hadn’t asked questions, he’d just come.

“Hold on, I’m coming.” Frank said. He knew it was serious. Gerard had stopped trying to call him. Frank knew from Mikey that he was pissed off with him. He wouldn’t call unless it was absolutely necessary.

“I’m at the cemetery.” Gerard whispered.

“I’m coming.” Frank repeated. He started to leave but was restrained by a hand on his shoulder. Derek.

“Wait. You know it wasn’t an empty threat, right? They won’t accept you breaking your promise.”

Frank clenched his fist. “If I don’t go to him now-“

“I know.” Derek interrupted him. “I’m going to hold them back. Now go. Don’t be too long.”

“I’ll repay you for this one day.”

Derek shrugged. “It’s nice to be on the good side for once.”

Frank shook his head. “There’s no good side.”

“Good luck.” Derek gestured to him to leave.

“Frank?” Frank could hear Gerard’s voice getting more desperate.

Frank nodded to Derek before turning and sprinting toward the cemetery. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” _No questions asked._

 

_One year ago - or FRANK INFILTRATES HOMECOMING PART TWO (this time with less stupidity, sorry)_

Gerard kept his eyes fixated on the world blurring past outside the window, clenching his fists in his lap so he didn’t let his anger out loud. He didn’t the whole bus to hear about his disaster of an evening.

For once in his life, he’d decided to make an effort. He’d put on a nice(ish) suit; done his hair all nice and asked a nice guy to homecoming. For once he’d done everything right - and everything had been going right, until Frank had to go and show up. The very fuckwit who was currently sat beside him, at least having the grace to look a little guilty. Mikey had made a run for it as soon as Frank had started breaking things, leaving Gerard to take him home on the _fucking bus_.

He was crazy. The kid was fucking insane. He’d just ran in and started chasing thin air; yelling something about vanquishing spirits or some nonsense. Naturally he’d been kicked out and suspended for two weeks - they thought he was on acid or something. Turns out he was completely sober, just a total lunatic. And Gerard couldn’t even yell at him and storm off because when they’d been “escorting” him out, one of the teachers had touched his bare arm and Frank had gone and passed out. So now the little shit was Gerard’s responsibility.

“Gee…” Frank tapped on his shoulder again.

Gerard refused to look at him; it would just make him angrier. Sure, it all sounded rather petty, but he was genuinely hurt. Frank clearly had no regard for his feelings, or any idea how much it took for Gerard to psych himself up to even go to something like this when even leaving his bedroom was a struggle. Let alone swallow his pride and go to an event for people who’ve passed their finals when he was already set to retake them.

“C’mon Gee, I said I’m sorry-”

He couldn’t resist. “No you’re not.” Gerard turned to look Frank in the eye. Frank recoiled a little, probably not expecting Gerard to have responded after he’d ignored him for so long. He was pale. Gerard supposed he still hadn’t entirely recovered from his little… Episode earlier. Sure had freaked out the teachers - not because they were worried about him, just the legal consequences. “Can’t you just stay out of my life for once?” Frank didn’t say anything, so Gerard continued. “Do you even realise the lengths you make other people go to for you?”

Frank continued to look him in the eye, his expression was unusually serious. “I’m sorry. I can’t explain, but I really didn’t mean to cause you harm. Quite the opposite…”

Gerard frowned, not comprehending at all. “What?”

Frank shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t have an excuse. I’m just sorry.”

“Okay.” Gerard said, slowly. He wasn’t going to say anything else, but something came to mind straight out of the blue and hit him in the face. Without intending to, he was suddenly talking. “Frank?

“Yeah?”

“How did you get the scar?”

Frank stared at him for a moment, before tapping his collarbone. “This one?”

Gerard nodded. He’d seen it earlier, during the whole mess of security guards and broken chairs and passing out on gym floors.

“Accident.” Frank said, softly. It felt like a punch to the gut, despite the fact that Gerard had been asking the question. Nobody talked about the accident.

“Was it…” Gerard’s mouth had run dry. “Was it-”

“The one that killed her?” Gerard nodded his head, very slightly. “Yeah. That’s the one.” Frank smiled, as though trying to comfort him. As though _Gerard_ was the one who would need comforting.

Gerard didn’t say anything else for the rest of the bus ride, and neither did Frank. When it came to his stop, Gerard watched Frank get off the bus and shakily walk up to his front door, fumbling for his keys in his jacket pocket. He looked strangely defeated, which didn’t make sense. He’d achieved what he’d set out to do, right - make trouble? That’s all he ever seemed to want.

So why was it that he had looked so despondent just then, and why had it pained Gerard so much to see?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyyyy been ages huh? Sorry bout that. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thought I’d bring Derek back since he seemed to be a bit of a fan favourite for whatever reason haha.
> 
> Hopefully will post a couple more times before Christmas so stay tuned for that, thanks for the kind words as always and have a great December <3


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